by Andre Brink
Katja, seated beside the captain, half rises from her chair with a becoming show of modesty, and curtsys in his direction. “Is it possible,” she asks in her most dulcet tone, “that someone can take Frau Wunderlich something to eat on the cart? A little broth perhaps?”
“By all means,” he agrees heartily, clearly determined to restore the earlier gemutlichkeit. “But are you sure we should not bring her inside?”
“We don’t want to risk moving her,” says Katja. “And she is well looked after by our servants.” She sighs histrionically. “She is very weak. We can only hope she will last the night.”
Without delay a soldier is sent out with a deep bowl of broth on a tray.
Hanna knows they will never see him again.
Now there are seventeen men. And four of these, including the captain, are beginning to show signs of severe discomfort. During the night, Hanna knows, they will start suffering from stomach cramps and bouts of vomiting. The men will not die, but with some luck they should remain incapacitated for a good twenty-four hours. By her calculations that should be enough.
∨ The Other Side of Silence ∧
Fifty-Six
They find it difficult to sleep that night. It is uncomfortable with the body of the young man stabbed and throttled by Gisela and Nerina and who now lies rolled in a blanket among bundles and packages under the hood of the oxcart. Also, they are concerned about the next day. Even if Kahapa’s group has taken care of the six soldiers sent out to them, have they not been too ambitious in their calculations? Will the garrison not become suspicious about the women’s purpose in their midst? For Katja there are other irritations too: three times in the night a young soldier steals out into the courtyard, creeps like a shadow to the open hood of the cart and tries to attract her attention. Twice it is the fond young man from the dinner table, Werner; once someone else. On Hanna’s instructions she feigns sleep. It is Gisela who rises to send the amorous youths scuttling back to the barracks. In different circumstances it might have been amusing; not now.
They also have to consult old Tookwi. Questioned by Katja on Hanna’s behalf, he proudly presents a chameleon he has found on their trek across the plains on their way down from the koppies. The little creature looks half-paralysed, but according to Tookwi it is as fine a specimen as he requires. “He is stronger than a snake,” he assures them. “You just tell me when you want the rain.”
After this they can have a few hours of restless sleep. But well before sunrise they are awakened by a hurrying and scurrying of soldiers inside the walls of the fort. The disappearance of the young man who took Gisela her supper has been confirmed and an intensive search is launched. No nook or corner is left unexplored. Several soldiers are sent outside to scour the surroundings of the fort. But there is no sign of the missing private. Gisela is also questioned. Still feigning weakness, she assures them that he had indeed brought her food – there is the plate, the mug, the cutlery – but then left her alone.
“Desert sickness,” the captain comments angrily. He looks deadly pale and can barely walk for the cramps. “It seems to be happening to more and more of the men posted out here. But it is unforgivable. Lack of self-discipline.” He doubles over in agony.
Through Katja, Hanna expresses her sympathy and informs him that she, too, has been suffering from contractions in the night. So, in fact, has Gisela. Which suggests that there must have been something wrong with the broth. She urges him to take to his bed. Surely, however much she admires his fortitude, there is no need for him to remain vigilant. There are enough able-bodied men about; some time soon his commando will be back in the full flush of their triumph.
Just then, at me moment of sunrise, the discussion is interrupted by another crackling of gunfire in the distance. The women count the reports in a low hum of half-whispered voices which sounds like an orison. One – two – three – and a quick four-five. It is a confirmation from Kahapa: he will be waiting for news or orders from them.
But all around them there is great agitation. The most urgent problem for the garrison to resolve is whether the gunshots spell good or bad news, friendly fire or enemy retaliation. Should they all wait here, standing by for action; or must another commando be sent out in case the first group has met with unexpected resistance or some mishap?
The captain, in the throes of severe convulsions, is not in a fit state to issue instructions. While he is being escorted to the barracks by two of the remaining soldiers, the second in command, Sergeant Vogel, takes charge. He orders the heliograph to be brought. One of the amorous youths of the night before – not the stricken young Werner but the other, a corporal, whose name they learn is Günther – starts sending an urgent message towards the distant hills. There is no response. Once again the message is flashed across the landscape which is gradually gaining definition in the light. And yet again. Still no signal from the distance.
“We really cannot afford to wait,” says young Günther, clearly in a state of serious agitation. “We have to do something.”
“I shall be the judge of that.” Sergeant Vogel, blowing himself up like a bull frog, brings him up short with a stare that would wither a thorn tree. “Already our numbers are reduced. We cannot leave the fort undermanned. Remember, there are only eighteen of us.” He checks himself, looks round, frowns severely. “Or seventeen, if the missing Carl does not turn up. And several of them unwell. It is most vexing.”
Hanna pushes Katja forward, prompting her. The girl curtsys like before. “Please, Sergeant,” she says, trying to exploit all the drama in the situation. “The men out there may be in great danger. Perhaps those Namas came back with reinforcements. Or perhaps they found the women we left behind and now they are in danger…”
“We shall take every possible precaution, Fraulein,” he says irritably. “You may leave that to me. Thank you.”
I’m sure you will do the right thing, Hanna responds through Katja. It is just that if I think of those poor women, and here you are with seventeen – or eighteen – well-armed men all safe in a redoubt like this…
Sergeant Vogel, who at the best of times has a flushed appearance, is scarlet with the effort of trying to make up his mind. Under a commander as strong and overbearing as Captain Weiss, there has never been much need for the subalterns to take charge. (Hanna, informed of this by the batmen along the way, shows no surprise.) He makes a laborious calculation. “We shall send out six men,” he announces, turning to the young Günther. “Corporal, you will pick five volunteers and depart in ten minutes.” Turning sharply on his heel he marches off at a pace rather too energetic, for his short, corpulent figure.
Minutes later the great gate is swung open and Günther rides out with his small band of hand-picked men. Hanna nods at the other women. She, Katja and Nerina each grabs one of the guns which have been lying in readiness on the oxcart. Their three shots are fired in rapid succession, followed by a pause, and then another series of three. New commando on its way, they signal to the distant Kahapa.
Sergeant Vogel comes running back from the barracks. “What the hell was that?” he shouts breathlessly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” apologises Katja with her most seductive smile. (From the background young Werner gapes at her in open adoration.) “But we thought we ought to honour your brave men with a few shots. Don’t you think they deserve it?” She inclines her head. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. I suppose when all is said and done, we’re only women. We are not so used to controlling our emotions as you are. Please forgive us. We owe so much to you.”
“Well…” he mumbles. “All right then. I appreciate your sentiments. But I’d prefer you to leave all shooting to the men who are trained to do it. We wouldn’t like an accident in our midst.”
Together they stand looking after the departing soldiers who, after a sudden halt upon hearing the shots behind them, have resumed their brisk canter.
Auf Wiedersehen, thinks Hanna. With some luck th
is will be the end of you.
That leaves eleven soldiers in the fort, four of them temporarily out of action. And the three grooms.
∨ The Other Side of Silence ∧
Fifty-Seven
The next move is up to Katja. It is one of the many things they have discussed overnight. The girl has to persuade one of the soldiers to accompany her outside, ostensibly to point out the route the women will follow on their next lap to Windhoek. Once they are out of sight – and by going down the rocky eastern slope of the koppie at the back of the fort, this need not be very far at all – she will dispose of him. No one will notice the weapons concealed under her wide skirt.
She is free to choose anyone. But in the light of recent events the obvious victim, Hanna now points out, should be young Werner. Katja blanches visibly.
“But wouldn’t it be better to find someone else…?” she stammers. “He is so very young, Hanna. What has he done?”
It is not what he has done, but what he is.
“If only this wasn’t necessary.” Her breath catches in her throat.
I wish the same. But you know what we have to do. And above all, why. She shakes her head. I really don’t know what is the matter with you lately. I realise just how hard it is. But he’s playing right into your hands, Katja. There can be no better choice.
“Is it only killing and death you can think of now?” Katja asks with a vehemence Hanna has not seen in her before. “Don’t you have feelings any more?”
All I can still allow myself to feel is hate. This word she has to spell out letter by letter; she has no shorthand sign for it as yet. There isn’t room for anything else.
“It will destroy you.”
On the contrary, it’s the only thing that keeps me alive.
“Hate is hideous.”
I wish you could understand how clear and bright it can he.
“You must be out of your mind to say a thing like that.”
You think this land has space for anything else?
“It must have space for me too. And I cannot hate the way you do. I don’t want to.”
You may not realise it, but you’ve already begun.
“I can still feel. I don’t ever want to stop feeling.”
We cannot, cannot allow ourselves to have feelings, Katja. One day, perhaps. But not now.
“But then we’re not human any more, Hanna!” Tears are running down her cheeks now. “Then we’re as despicable as the men we are fighting.”
The need to be violent – that, too, has been forced on us.
“No, we chose that. It wasn’t forced.”
What other way did they ever leave open to us, Katja? Either we do something now to stop it, or we allow the world to go on like before. And that we can no longer accept.
“Whatever the cost?”
It depends on what we are fighting for, answers Hanna, struggling against her own emotion. In a quick, jerky movement she tears the kappie from her head, her face turned up to the sun. Have you forgotten what they have done to us? To you? That night in Frauenstein…?
“Not all of them,” whispers Katja. “Not Werner.”
If that is true, then you’ll be saving him from becoming like the others.
“I can’t believe that you can be so cynical, Hanna. Not you, of all people.”
Hanna places her hands on the girl’s shoulders, then pulls Katja’s face against her own shoulder. The blonde hair brushes against her burning cheeks. It is myself I am condemning, she thinks.
Katja turns away abruptly and goes towards the barracks where soldiers are cleaning and polishing and sweeping. Half an hour later Hanna sees the girl, very tense and pale, going to the stables with young Werner. When they come out again, both are on horseback. Near the gate she sees them talking to the sentry. There is a fair deal of discussion before the gate is drawn open. Slowly the young couple ride out. Hanna goes up to the rear wall to watch. They go down the rough hillside. They appear to be engaged in eager discussion. From the bottom of the koppie they cover a few hundred metres of open, even terrain. Then they move into a thicket. She does not see them emerge again at the far side. No one else appears to have noticed.
Hanna waits. It is taking longer than she expected. Could anything have gone wrong? Anxiety is trembling in her guts. If something were to happen to Katja she would be to blame, no one else. (But is it really Katja she is anxious about – or the possibility of one of her moves going wrong? The idea hits her like a stab in the chest.)
Then at last there is further movement below. Katja comes galloping back from the thicket. She is alone.
Hanna is at the front gate to greet her when it is opened. The girl is in a state, her hair dishevelled, tangled, her clothes crumpled. She has been crying; she is still crying.
Did you kill him?
Katja nods furiously, too emotional to speak. Soldiers are approaching, attracted by the noise of her return. And to Hanna’s vast relief, and her astonishment, Katja manages to play her role to perfection in spite of the turbulence inside her. Unless that, too, is part of it?
“Someone must come quickly,” the girl gasps to her audience. “A snake. There was a snake. Werner was bitten on the leg. Please send someone back with me or he’ll die.”
There are several volunteers, but the sergeant designates only one of them.
Hanna grabs the bridle of Katja’s horse and gesticulates urgently. Let Nerina go with you too.
Within minutes the three horses canter off. Hanna returns to the parapet, with the soldiers. A wave of anxiety tears through the fort. The horses disappear into the thicket. For a while everything is very quiet. Then a shot rings out. It is received with shouts and much running about along the wall, exclamations of dismay and shock. At last there is movement again below on the plain. The two women are on their way back, very slowly this time, on foot. They are leading the three horses.
“What is going on?” shouts Sergeant Vogel at the gate. “Where’s Werner? Where’s Lionel?”
Katja is sobbing. It looks real enough. “The snake came back. Werner tried to shoot it, although he was already very weak. It was too fast. He missed, and hit his friend. Now they are both dead.”
Nine left, thinks Hanna. Four of them incapacitated. This is becoming more manageable.
∨ The Other Side of Silence ∧
Fifty-Eight
The day is not yet over. The bodies have been brought in. (Katja is not there to see; she has withdrawn under the hood of the oxcart.) Gloom has settled on the brown fort against the high koppie.
Towards noon there is a chattering of gunfire in the distance, from the hills. It continues for quite a while, fiercely, erratically; to those in the fort, men and women alike, it is nerve-racking. But at last it dies down. The pause that follows is even more worrying. Then comes a conclusion, a repeat of last night’s volley: two brief series of four shots each. The women can breathe again: Kahapa’s men have evidently finished off the second commando. But the soldiers in the fort are approaching a state of mutinous agitation: something has to be done, someone has to go and find out what has happened, it cannot go on like this. There is a curse on this place.
Sergeant Vogel has the heliograph mounted on the front wall again and tries several times to beam a message to the distant hills, but there is no response. He has more and more difficulty keeping his drastically diminished garrison under control. The three grooms, who seem beside themselves with fear, are confined to the stables. All four remaining able men are posted on the walls, while the sergeant scuttles to and fro between them and the suffering soldiers in the barracks. From time to time Hanna sends old Kamma to offer help with what remains of her potions. The sergeant is only too grateful for the assistance, which will ensure that the sick soldiers continue to suffer. The captain, who is the most seriously afflicted, is drifting in and out of delirium most of the time.
At lunchtime, through Katja, who is still almost too disturbed to react, Hanna asks one of the soldiers to
take another bowl of soup to the desperately sick woman on the oxcart. He, too, does not return; but so unobtrusive has been his exit and such is the raging consternation in the fort, that no one registers it. Gisela’s pile of bedding is growing steadily.
Eight soldiers left, only half of them fit to do battle.
In the mid-afternoon there is another salvo of shots from the koppies, the morning’s pattern repeated – one, two, three, four-five – but although all the available men are falling over one another as they scramble to the front wall with their binoculars to scour the emptiness ahead it is doubtful whether anyone but the female visitors has recognised the repetition.
Hanna realises that a response is needed: Kahapa is now waiting for instructions. After the sergeant’s reaction to the morning’s parting volley she knows the risk involved; but the time for the endgame has come.
She hurries to the cart where Katja is lying on a bundle of blankets behind Gisela. The girl barely moves when Hanna arrives, staring fixedly at the canvas hood above her.
I’m calling Kahapa and the others back, Hanna informs her.
Katja shows no reaction.
Hanna grabs one of their guns and motions to Gisela and Nerina to do the same. With four fingers pressed together and her thumb held separate she orders them to fire their responding salvo: four shots in quick succession, a brief pause, then a single. Come hack.
Katja stares listlessly at them; she seems unable to comprehend their urgency, even when Hanna grabs her by the shoulders to shake her.
The sentries come running towards them from the front wall; the thickset sergeant misses the bottom step of the stone staircase and approaches on all fours, his face a rich magenta.