When The Lion Feeds Part 39

Mbejane squatted down next to Sean's chair. He was silent a moment as he gathered his words.When the sky sends its cloud impis against the peaks of the Drakensberg, with thunder and the spears of lightning, it is a thing to thrill a man. When two bull elephants fight unto death there is no braver show in all the veld.

Is this not so?

Sean nodded, his eyes twinkling.Nkosi, hear me when I tell you these things were as the play of little children beside this fight Sean listened to the praises. Mbejane was well versed lkin the oldest art of Zululand and when he had finished he looked at Sean's face. It was happy. Mbejane smiled and took a fold of paper out of his loin cloth. A servant from the other camp brought this while you slept Sean read the note. It was written in a big round school- girl hand and worded in High Dutch. He liked that writing.

It was an invitation to dinner. Kandhla, get out my suit and my number one boots. He picked up the mirror again. There wasn't very much he could do about his face, trim the beard, perhaps, but that was all. He laid the mirror down and looked up stream to where the Leroux wagons were half hidden among the trees.

Mbejane carried a lantern in front of Sean. They walked slowly to enable Sean to limp with dignity. When they reached the other laager, Jan Paulus climbed stiffly out of his chair and nodded an equally still greeting. Mbejane had lied, except for a missing tooth there was little to choose between their faces. Oupa slapped Sean's back and pressed a tumbler of brandy into his hand. He was a tall roan but twenty thousand suns had burnt away Ins flesh and left only stringy muscle, had faded his eyes to a pale green and toughened his skin to the texture of a turkey's neck. His beard was yellowish-white with still a touch of ginger round the mouth. He asked Sean three questions without giving him time to answer the first, then he led him to a chair.

Oupa talked, Sean listened and Jan Paulus sulked. Oupa talked of cattle and hunting and the land to the north.

After a few minutes Sean realized that he was not expected to take part in the conversation: his few tentative efforts were crushed under Oupa's verbal avalanche.

So Sean listened half to him and half to the whisper of women's voices from the cooking fires behind the laager.

Once he heard her laugh. He knew it was her for it was the rich sound of the thing that he had seen in her eyes.

At last the women's business with food and pots was finished and Ouma led the girls to where the men sat. Sean stood up and saw that Katrina was tall, with shoulders like a boy. As she walked towards him the movement pressed her skirt against her legs, they were long but her feet were small. Her hair was red-black and tied behind her head in an enormous bun. Ah, my battling bear, Ouma took Sean's arm, let me present my daughter-in-law, Henrietta, here is the man that nearly killed your husband. Jan Paulus snorted from his chair and Ouma laughed, her bosom wobbling merrily.

Henrietta was a small dark-eyed girl. She doesn't like me, Sean guessed instantly. He bowed slightly and took her hand. She pulled it away.

This is my youngest daughter, Katrina. You met her last night.

She does like me. Her fingers were long and squaretipped in his.

Sean risked his lips with a smile. Without her ministrations I might have bled to death, he said. She smiled straight back at him but not with her mouth. You wear your wounds well, maneer, the blue eye has an air of distinction. That will be enough from you, girl Oupa spoke sharply. Go and sit by your mother He turned to Sean. I was telling you about this horse, I said to the fellow, "He's not worth five pounds let alone fifteen, look at those hocks, thin as sticks. So he says to me, trying to get me away, you follow, he says, "Come and look at the saddle. " But I can see he's worriede, The thin cotton of the girl's blouse could hardly contain the impatient push of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Sean thought that he had never seen anything so wonderful.

There was a trestle-table next to the cooking fire; they went to it at last. Oupa said grace. Sean watched him through his lashes. Oupa's beard waggled as he spoke and at one point he thumped the table to emphasize the point he was making to the Almighty. His amen had such an impressive resonance that Sean had to make an effort to stop himself applauding and Oupa fell back spent. Amen, said ouma and ladled stew from a pot the size of a bucket. Henrietta added pumpkin fritters and Katrina stacked slices of fresh meahe bread on each plate. A silence fell on the table, spoiled only by the clank of metal on china and the sound of Oupa breathing through his nose. Mevrouw Leroux, I have waited a long time to taste food like this again. Sean mopped up the last bit of gravy with a piece of mealie bread. Ouma beamed.

There's plenty more, meneer. I love to see a man eat.

Oupa used to be a great trencherman. My father made him take me away for he could not afford to feed him every time he came courting. She took Sean's plate and filled it. You look to me like a man who can eat I think. I'll hold my own in most company Sean agreed. So? Jan Paulus spoke for the first time. He pa.s.sed his plate to Ourna. Fill it up, please, Mother, tonight I am hungry-Sean's eyes narrowed, he waited until Jan Paulus had his plate back in front of him, then he took up his fork deliberately. Jan Paulus did the same. Glory, said Ourna happily. Here we go again. Oupa, you may have to go out and shoot a couple of buffalo before dinner is finished tonight! will bet one sovereign on Jan Paulus, Oupa challenged his wife. He is like an army of termites. I swear that if there was nothing else he'd eat the canvas off the wagons. All right, agreed Ouma. I've never seen the Bear eat before, but it seems to me he has plenty of room to put it! Your woollen shawl against my green bonnet that Jan Paulus gives up first, Katrina whispered to her sister-inlaw. When Jannie has finished the stew he'll eat the Englishmin, Henrietta giggled. But it's a pretty bonnet, I'll take the wager. Plateful for plateful, Ouma measuring out each ladle with scrupulous fairness, they ate against each other. The talk round the table dwindled and halted. More? asked Ourna each time the plates were clean, and each time they looked at each other and nodded. At last the ladle sc.r.a.ped the bottom of the pot. That's the end of it, my children, we will have to call it another draw. The silence went on after she had spoken. Sean and Jan Paulus sat very still looking at their respective plates. )an Paulus hiccupped, his expression changed. He stood up and went into the darkness. Ah! listen! listen! crowed Ouma. They, waited and then she exploded into laughter. The ungrateful wretch, is that what he thinks of my food? Where's your sovereign, Oupa? Wait, you greedy old woman, the game's not finished yet. He turned and stared at Sean. To me it looks as though your horse is nearly blown Sean closed his eyes. The sounds of Jan Paulus's distress came to him very clearly. -Thank you for a, He didn't have time to finish. He wanted to get far away so the girl couldn't hear him.

The following morning during breakfast Sean thought about his next move. He would write an invitation to dinner and then he would deliver it himself. They would for coffee and then, if he waited, have to ask him to stay there would be a chance. Even Oupa would have to stop talking sometime and Ouma might relax her vigilance.

He was sure there'd be a chance to talk to the girl. He didn't know what he would say to her but he'd worry about that when the time came. He climbed into the wagon and found pencil and paper in his chest. He went f back to the table and spread the paper in front of him. He chewed the end of the pencil and stared out into the bush.

Something moved against the trees. Sean put the pencil down and stood up. The dogs barked then stopped as they recognized Mubi. He was coming at a trot, he was coming with news. Sean waited for him.

, A big herd, Nkosi, with many showing ivory. I sawthem drink at the river and then go back into the bush, feeding quietly. When? asked Sean to gain time. He was searching for a plausible excuse to stay in camp, it would have to be good to satisfy Mbejane who was already saddling one of the horses. Before the sun this morning, answered Hlubi and Sean was trying to remember which was his sore shoulder, he couldn't hunt with a sore shoulder. Mbejane led the horse into the laager. Sean scratched the side of his nose and coughed. The tracker from the other camp follows close behind me, Nkosi, he too has seen the herd and brings the news k I to his master. But 1, being as swift as a springbok when I run, have outdistanced him, Hlubi ended modestly. Is that so? For Sean it changed the whole problem, he couldn't leave the herd to that red-headed Dutchman. He ran across to the wagon and s.n.a.t.c.hed his bandolier from the foot of the cot. His rifle was already in the scabbard. Are you tired, Hlubi? Sean buckled the heavy ammunition belt across his chest. The sweat had run in oily streaks down the Zulu's body; his breathing was deep and quick. No, Nkosi. well, then, lead us to these elephant of yours, my fleetfooted springbok. Sean swung up onto his horse He looked over his shoulder at the other camp. She would still be there when he came back.

Sean was limited to the speed of Hlubi's feet while the two Leroux had only to gallop along the easy spoor left by Sean's party and they caught up with him before he had gone two miles. Good morning to you, Oupa greeted him as he drew level and pulled his horse in to a trot. Out for a morning's ride, I see. Sean made the best of it with a grin. If we are all to hunt then we must hunt together. Do you agree? Of course, meneer. And we must share the bag equally, one third to each man.

That is always the way. Oupa. nodded. Do you agree? Sean turned in his -saddle towards Jan Paulus. Jan Paulus granted. He showed little inclination to open his mouth since he'd lost his tooth.

They found the spoor within an hour. The herd had wrecked a road through the thick bush along the river.

They had stripped the bark from the saplings and left them naked and bleeding. They had knocked down bigger trees to reach the tender top leaves and they had dropped their great piles of dung in the gra.s.s.

We need no trackers to follow this. Jan Paulus had the first excitement on him. Sean looked at him and wondered how many elephant had died in front of his rifle. A thousand perhaps, and yet the excitement was on him again now. Tell your servants to follow us. We'll go ahead. We catch them within an hour. He smiled at Sean, gaptoothed, and Sean felt the excitement lift the hair on his own forearms. He smiled back.

They cantered in a rough line abreast, slack-reined to let the horses pick their own way among the fallen trees.

The river bush thinned out as they moved north and soon they were into parkland. The gra.s.s brushed their stirrups and the ground beneath it was firm and smooth.

They rode without talking, leaning forward in their saddles, looking ahead. The rhythmic beat of hooves was a war drum. Sean ran his fingers along the row of bullets strapped across his chest, then he drew his rifle, checked the load and thrust it back into its scabbard. There! said Oupa and Sean saw the herd. It was ma.s.sed among a grove of fever trees a quarter of a mile ahead. Name of a name, Paulus whistled. There must be two hundred at least. Sean heard the first pig-squeal of alarm, saw ears fan out and trunks lift. Then the herd bunched together and ran with their backs humped, a thin screen of dust trailing behind them. Paulus take the right flank. You, meneer, in the middle and I'll ride left, shouted Oupa.

he jammed his hat down over his ears and his horse jumped under him as he hit it with his heels. Like a thrown trident the three hors.e.m.e.n hurled themselves at the herd. Sean rode into the dust. He picked an old cow elephant from the moving mountain range in front Of him and pressed Ins horse so close upon her that he could see the bristles in her tail tuft and the erosion of her skin, wrinkled as an old man's s.c.r.o.t.u.m. He touched his hand to his horse's neck and it plunged, from full gallop to standstill in half a dozen strides. Sean threw his feet free of the stirrups and hit the ground, loose-kneed to ride the shock. The cow's spine was a line of lumps beneath the grey skin, Sean broke it with his first bullet and she dropped, sliding on her hindquarters like a dog with worms. His horse started to run again before he was properly in the saddle and everything became movement and noise, dust and the smell of burnt powder. Chase them, coughing in the dust. Close with them. Off the horse and shoot. Wet blood on grey skin. Slam, slam of the rifle, its barrel hot, recoiling savagely. Sweat in the eyes, stinging.

Ride. Shoot again. Two more down, screaming, anch.o.r.ed by paralysed legs. Blood-red as a flag. Load, cramming cartridges into the rifle. Ride. Chase them, shoot again and again. The bullets striking on flesh with a hollow sound, then up and ride again. Ride, until the horse could no longer keep up with them and he had to let them go. He stood holding his horse's head, the dust and the thirst closed his throat. He could not swallow. His hands trembled in reaction. His shoulder was aching again. He untied his silk scarf, wiped his face with it and blew the mud out of his nose, then he drank from his water-bottle. The water tasted sweet.

The hunt had led from parkland into mopam bush. It was very thick, s.h.i.+ny green leaves hanging to the ground and pressing close around him. The air was still and warm to breathe. He turned back along the line of the chase. He found them by their squealing. When they saw him they tried to charge, dragging themselves towards him, using the front legs only and groping with their dunks. They sagged into stillness after the head shot. This was the bad part. Sean worked quickly. He could hear the other rifles in the mopard forest around him and when he came to one of the long clearings among the trees he saw Jan Paulus walking towards him, leading his horse.

How many? called Sean. Gott, Man, I didn't count. What a killing, hey? Have you got a drink for me? I dropped my water-bottle somewhere. Jan Paulus's rifle was in its saddle scabbard. The reins were slung over his shoulder and his horse followed him with its head drooping from exhaustion. The clearing was walled in with the dense mopani trees and a wounded elephant broke into the open. It was lung shot, the side of its chest painted with froth, and when it squealed the blood sprayed in a pink spout from the end of its trunk.

It went for Jan Paulus, streaming the black battle ensigris of its ears. His horse reared, the reins snapped, it turned free and galloped away, leaving jan full in the path of the charge. Sean went up onto his horse's back without touching stirrups. His horse threw its head, dancing in a tight circle, but he dragged it around and drove it to intercept the charge. Don't run, for G.o.d's sake, don't run! he shouted as he cleared his rifle from the scabbard. Jan Paulus heard him.

He stood with his hands at his sides, his feet apart and his body braced. The elephant heard Sean shout also and it swung its head and Sean saw the first hesitation in its run. He fired, not trying to pick his shot, hoping only to hurt it, to bring it away from Jan Paulus. The bullet slapped into it with the sound of a wet towel flicked against a wall. The elephant turned, clumsy with the weakness of its shattered lungs. Sean gathered his horse beneath him and wheeled it away and the elephant followed him.

Sean fumbled as he reloaded, his hands were slippery with sweat. One of the bra.s.s sh.e.l.ls slipped through his fingers, tapped against his knee and dropped into the gra.s.s under his horse's hooves. The elephant gained on him. He loosened his bed-roll from the saddle and let it fall, they would sometimes stop to savage even a fallen hat, but not this one. He turned in the saddle and fired into it. It squeled again so close upon him that the blown blood splattered into his face. His horse was almost finished; he could feel its legs flopping with every stride and they were nearly at the end of the clearing racing towards the solid wall of green mopani. He pushed another round into the breech of his rifle and swung his body across the saddle.

He slid down until his feet touched the ground and he was running next to his horse. He let go and was flung forward, but he fought to keep his balance, his body jarring with the force of his run. Then, still on his feet, he turned for his first steady shot. The elephant was coming in fast, almost on top of him, hanging over him like a Cliff. Its trunk coiled on its chest and the curves of its ivory were lifted high.

it's too close, much too close, I can't hit the brain from here.

He aimed at the hollow in its forehead just above the level of its eyes. He fired and the elephants legs folded up; its brain burst like an overripe tomato within the bone castle of its skull.

Sean tried to jump aside as the ma.s.sive body came skidding down upon him, but one of its legs. .h.i.t him and threw him face down into the gra.s.s. He lay there. He felt sick, for his stomach was still full of warm oily fear.

After a while he sat up and looked at the elephant. one of its tusks had snapped off flush with the lip. Jan Paulus came, panting from his run. He stopped next to the elePhant and touched the wound in its forehead, then he wiped his fingers on his s.h.i.+rt. Are you all right, man? He took Sean's arm and helped him to his feet; then he picked up Sean's hat and dusted it carefully before handing it to him.

in the three-sided shelter formed by the belly and outthrust legs of one of the dead elephants they made their camp that night. They drank coffee together and Sean sat between the two Leroux with his back against the rough skin of the elephants belly. The silhouettes of the tree against the night sky were deformed by the shapes of the vultures that cl.u.s.tered in them and the darkness was ugly with the giggling of hyena. They had set a feast for the scavengers. They spoke little for they were tired, but Sean could feel the grat.i.tude of the men who sat beside him and before they rolled into their blankets Jan Paulus said gruffly, Thank you, kerel. , You might be able to do the same for me one day. I hope so, ja! I hope so. In the morning oupa said, It's going to take us three or four days to cut out all this ivory. He looked up at the sky. I don't like these clouds. One of us had better ride.

back to camp to fetch more men and wagons to carry the ivory.

i'll go Sean stood up quickly. I was thinking of going myself. But Sean was already calling to Mbejane to saddle his horse and Oupa couldn't really argue with him, not after yesterday.

Tell Ourna to take the wagons across the river, he acquiesced. We don't want to be caught on this side when the river floods. Perhaps you wouldn't mind helping her. No, Sean a.s.sured him. I don't mind at all. His horse was still tired from the previous day's hunt and it was three hours before he reached the river.

He tied his horse on the bank and went down to one of the pools. He stripped off his clothes and lowered himself into the water. He scrubbed himself with handfuls of the coa.r.s.e sand and when he waded out of the pool and dried on his s.h.i.+rt his skin was tingling. He rode along the bank and the temptation to gallop his horse was almost unbearable. He laughed to himself a little. The field's almost clear, though I wouldn't put it past that suspicious old Dutchman to follow me He laughed again and thought about the colour of her eyes, green as creme-de-menthe in a crystal gla.s.s, and the shape of her bosom. The muscles in his legs tightened and the horse lengthened its stride in response to the pressure of his knees. All right, run then, Sean encouraged it, I don't insist on it, but I would be grateful. He went to his own wagons first and changed his sweaty s.h.i.+rt for a fresh one, his leather breeches for clean calico and his scuffed boots for soft pohshed leather. He scrubbed his teeth with salt and dragged a comb through his hair and beard. He saw in the mirror that the battle damage to his face was fading and he winked at his image. How can she resist you? He gave his mustache one more twirl, climbed out of the wagon and was immediately aware of a most uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He walked towards the Leroux laager thinking about it, and he recognized it as the same feeling he used to have when Waite Courtney called him to the study to do penance for his boyhood sins. That's odd, he muttered. Why should I feel like that?

His confidence faded and he stopped. I wonder if my breath smells, I think I'd better go back and get some cloves He turned with relief, knew it as cowardice and stopped again. Get a grip on yourself. She's only a girl, an uneducated little Dutch girl. You've had fifty finer women. Name me two, he shot back at himself.

Well, there was, Oh! for Chrissake, come on. Resolutely he set off for the Leroux laager again.

She was sitting in the sun within the circle of wagons.

She was leaning forward on the stool and her newlywashed hair fell thickly over her face almost to the ground. with each stroke of the brush it leapt like a live thing and the sun sparkled the red lights in it. Sean wanted to touch it, he wanted to twist fistfuls of it round his hands and he wanted to smell it, it would smell warm and slightly milky like a puppy's fur. He stepped softly towards her but before he reached her she took the s.h.i.+ny ma.s.s with both hands and threw it back over her shoulders, a startled flash of green eyes, one despairing wall, oh, no! not with my hair like this A swirl of skirts that sent the stool flying and she was gone into her wagon- Sean scratched the side of his nose and stood awkwardly. Why are you back so soon, meneer? she called through the canvas. Where are the others? Is everything all right! Yes, they're both fine. I left them and came to fetch wagons to carry the ivory. oh, that's good. Sean tried to interpret the inflection of her voice: was it good that they were fine, or good that he had left them? So far the indications were favourable;