Journey to Freedom (8 page)

The honey badger was amused. ‘She knows me all right,’ he muttered to himself.

At the bottom of the slope they found a hedge; an impenetrable tangle of thick thorn. Lorna patrolled its length, looking for a possible opening, but found none. She snarled with vexation. It seemed to the hungry lioness that there was food to be had on the other side if only she could get to it. She tried to assess the height of the hedge in the darkness. She could see that it was too high to leap over.

The animal cries had stopped. They had come from a cow in labour; the calf was delivered now and mother and baby were occupied with each other. The smell of the new-born calf, though it was some distance away in a barn, was very strong, for the straw on which the calf had dropped was heavily impregnated with its scent. The lioness knew she had to climb the hedge to reach it, but thorns and prickles deterred her. She growled louder and louder, exasperated with the obstacle.

‘There’s no avoiding discomfort here,’ the honey badger stated. ‘Go on, lion. You’ll be up and over before you know you’re hurt.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ Lorna snapped irritably, ‘with your weird thick skin.’

‘All right,’ said Ratel. ‘I’ll show you how.’ He grasped a stout branch and began to claw his way up. He was an excellent climber and in no time he had reached the top. ‘Nothing to it,’ he announced, ‘but keep your eyes closed.’ He climbed just as easily down the other side.

Lorna still hesitated. The thorns reminded her of the bee-stings, ready to pierce and prick her. She had
suffered severely last time and was loath to risk further injury. She growled furiously at the badger, the hedge and herself. ‘I’ll have to find another way,’ she roared finally and set off to seek some way of circumventing the thorns.

The badger fairly glowed, revelling in his superiority. ‘I’m ahead of the lion,’ he whispered to himself. ‘The first choice must be mine.’

Dawn glimmered in the east as the determined little animal followed the calf’s scent. He heard Lorna’s roars of frustration rumbling beyond the man-made barrier. Some cattle stood in a field, cropping grass where it grew thickest. Despite their size, Ratel was not afraid of them. Only humans had the power to frighten him. He reached the barn where the black and white cow was suckling her new calf and trotted in, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. The cow swung round to face him, putting herself between the interloper and her offspring. She lowed a warning, dropping her massive head.

The badger was undeterred. He ran around, aiming nips at the beast’s legs and completely unsettling the calf, who bleated in its fright. The slow, heavy mother turned this way and that, trampling the straw and bellowing alarm. Outside, the other cattle raised their heads and tensed, sensing the danger. It was growing lighter by the minute. The badger had left it too late; the cow’s mooing had been heard by the herdsman, who was already on his way and now increased his pace. The man’s boots rattled on the path and he called in a deep rasping voice, ‘I’m coming. Don’t fret, Delia. I’m coming!’

The badger froze, then took to his heels as the man clattered into the barn, brandishing a long-handled broom at the intruder. It wasn’t sufficiently light yet for the honey badger to be identified as the alien that he
was in the English countryside. The herdsman merely saw a black and white animal scooting past him and mistook him for his native European relative who was no stranger in that part of the world.

‘Come to pinch her milk, have you?’ the man shouted, voicing a belief that still persists in some areas. Ratel felt a thump on his rear and he darted away with a squeal.

‘Ah! You didn’t like that! Well, don’t come back!’ The herdsman turned to settle the cow and her calf down after their scare, and the honey badger ran back to the thorn hedge where he lost no time in climbing back to the other side. Lorna was nowhere in sight.

‘Lion! Lion! I’m going back to the forest. Where are you?’

Lorna didn’t answer. She was far away. She had reached the limit of the thorn hedge in one direction where it turned at a right-angle to lead up to the farmhouse. She paced alongside it, obstinately refusing to give up until she had found a gap.

The farmer’s wife was drawing back the bedroom curtains just as Lorna arrived. The lioness had found her gap. The hedge gave way to a gate and Lorna’s tawny head could be seen peering through the bars as the woman looked out of the window. There was a shriek and a stammered cry. The woman pointed with a trembling finger. ‘L-look. Look there!’

The farmer rushed to the window, then hurtled downstairs with a curse. ‘Mind the children!’ he yelled behind him. He reached for his gun.

Lorna saw the woman gesticulating at the window. She knew she was at risk, but at the same time she was almost mesmerised by the ripe animal smells from the new birth in the barn. She couldn’t ignore them and they drew her forward. The next instant the farmer burst from the house, waving his arms and shouting at
the top of his voice. His gun, naturally, had been left unloaded, and he needed a few moments to arm it. Lorna backed away from the gate, snarling angrily. The man fumbled with his gun; his hands were shaking. Lorna saw her path to her intended prey was barred. For a brief moment she considered confronting the human, but instinct told her to avoid him. She turned and loped away, back along the obstructing hedge.

‘Now’s my chance,’ the farmer murmured as he snapped his shotgun shut. ‘This’ll make her smart a bit!’ He fired quickly at the retreating lioness. Lorna heard the crack of the gun and accelerated. Something whined past her ear. There was a second crack and the pellet skimmed through her back fur, slightly searing her skin. She growled and raced for the tree-line. The farmer didn’t bother to reload. He stamped back to the farmhouse and telephoned the police.

Lorna was wild with disappointment and Ratel knew it. For the first time he felt vulnerable in the lioness’s company. She had caught nothing and her eyes gleamed hungrily. In the daylight deer were difficult to stalk and the badger realised he offered an easy substitute.

‘I’ll leave you,’ he said bluntly. ‘We should get to our dens.’

Lorna didn’t answer and the smaller animal’s nerves tingled in alarm. He imagined Lorna was preparing to pounce. The badger scuttled into the brushwood to hide, wishing he hadn’t lingered under the trees when he heard the gunshots. He peeped through the clustering vegetation to see if he was being hunted. Lorna was standing and looking towards him; a small red patch showed on her back hair. She was panting, and her eyes seemed to bore into him. He shrank down, waiting for the charge.

‘Come out, Ratel. Don’t be foolish. You don’t need to hide from me,’ Lorna boomed.

‘How do
I
know that?’ he asked nervously.

‘Because I wouldn’t waste my time trying to chew your tough hide,’ Lorna replied in a bored tone. ‘I’ve a much better plan in my head.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Come out and I’ll tell you,’ the lioness continued slyly. ‘I can’t see you properly.’

‘That’s what I hoped,’ said the honey badger. ‘I – er – think I’ll just stay in here a while, lion. At least, for as long as you’re hungry.’

‘Then you’ll have a long wait. I shan’t return to the hunt until nightfall, when those interfering humans will be sound asleep.’

All day long in the cave Lorna thought she could smell calf. The scent was in her nostrils, maddening her. She paced up and down her lair, unable to rest for a minute. Water drooled from her mouth and she grumbled to herself, growling constantly. The honey badger hadn’t quite kept to his word. He had moved from his temporary shelter to his favourite burrow and there he had lain low. Dusk came slowly. Lorna stood at the threshold of the cave and roared at the darkening sky. She remembered her sister, but she had almost forgotten the zoo.

‘Sister! Sister! Why are we no longer together?’

In the cave a faint echo of her cries could be heard as though there was an answering roar from the refuge at Kamenza: ‘Why have they parted us?’

Ellen had eaten almost nothing for a week. She drank milk or water and spent most of her time resting in the shade and pining for her sister. Joel had been unable to tempt her to eat any substantial rations. The lioness was growing weaker and weaker. Joel knew that only Lorna could save her sister and he wanted to devote himself to reuniting them. He prepared to leave Kamenza.

Simon Obagwe brought him an up-to-date report on Lorna. ‘She was seen at a dairy farm only yards from the farmhouse,’ he told Joel. ‘The farmer thinks she was after a young calf.’

Joel gasped. ‘What happened?’

‘He managed to drive her off, but he thinks she’ll be back. He’s asked for police assistance.’

‘Oh no!’ Joel groaned. ‘They’ll shoot her.’

Simon looked grim. ‘Possibly, if she’s a danger to the family as well.’

‘I wish I’d gone sooner!’ Joel exclaimed anxiously. ‘I might have saved her. Now they’ll both die.’

‘Hold on, hold on.’ Simon held up a hand. ‘Nothing’s happened yet. You’ll be back in England within twenty-four hours. Perhaps you can still do some good? Why don’t you contact the press people and get them to persuade the police to stay their hand until
you’re on the scene? They could keep Lorna at bay by putting down raw meat.’

‘They’ve tried that,’ Joel replied. ‘It didn’t work. She left it. Unless’ – a thought struck him – ‘unless it could be a dead animal, completely untouched. I believe Lorna associates raw meat too much with the fact that humans supply it. She just might accept a dead farm animal.’

‘Good thinking,’ Simon concurred. ‘I reckon you should telephone right now.’

They turned to watch Simon’s nine-year-old daughter Annie running across the yard to Ellen’s pen. The girl was full of sympathy for the unhappy lioness and could often be found talking to her through the enclosure fence. Annie sat down and began to speak.

‘I wish you didn’t look so sad and I wish I could help you. I’d like to make you happy.’

At first Ellen hardly noticed the girl who chattered on as usual in the hope of comforting her, but eventually the lioness gave Annie her attention. The girl was always thrilled when she received that solemn, steady gaze. She gazed back, trying hard to make her own expression convey her sympathy.

‘I wonder if you understand my feelings for you?’ Annie whispered.

That night Ellen lay with her head on her paws, close to the entrance to her enclosure. She felt listless and abandoned. Even Joel had left her now. The African night with all its strange sounds hardly penetrated her consciousness. Upesi the cheetah patrolled her own pen. Every time she passed Ellen she cast a curious glance at her. She couldn’t comprehend the strange animal that had been placed next to her, with all her troubles and sorrow.

‘Why are you moping there?’ the cheetah asked at
last, stopping to stare. ‘The night’s the time for movement. Don’t you ever feel lively?’

Ellen looked up miserably. ‘Never,’ she moaned. ‘Not here.’

‘Are you ill?’

‘I think I am. I
feel
I am.’

‘Why don’t you eat your meat? Do they give you too much?’

‘What?’ Ellen was barely listening. ‘Oh. No, they don’t give me too much. I’m simply not hungry.’

‘Well, why are you given it? They could give it to me. I could eat more.’

‘You’re welcome to it,’ said Ellen. ‘There’s only one thing I want. I want my sister back. Nothing else is of any use. I want her here with me. That’s all. The way it used to be.’

‘Your sister, your sister! You never talk of anything but your sister,’ Upesi complained irritably. ‘Why is she so important to you?’

Ellen sighed. She thought for a while. The cheetah turned away to continue her patrolling. ‘Because,’ said Ellen, halting Upesi as she turned, ‘without my sister I don’t feel whole.’

‘I never know what you’re talking about,’ the cheetah grunted. She had no siblings.

Joel left Kamenza and the African continent, not knowing if he would be successful in his bid to stop Lorna being destroyed. The newspaper campaign to save the lionesses had turned sour in the light of recent events. No one from the paper could promise that any plea from that quarter would influence the police involvement. They agreed to try; no more than that. Public safety was paramount and they had to abide by any decision taken by the police force. Joel had stressed that both lionesses would die if they couldn’t be
brought together again. Ellen had not adapted to her African quarters; Lorna was her only hope. There was no chance of releasing Ellen into the wild on her own. She wouldn’t survive more than a day or so. She had never hunted prey and was now too weak and uninterested to accept any attempt by humans to give her hunting lessons. Lorna alone could do that.

On the long flight back to England Joel thought about the coming night. He knew it was critical. It would be another twelve to eighteen hours before he could get himself to Lingmere, by which time he might be too late to save Lorna. He tried to read but found himself staring at a blur of words on the page which his brain refused to absorb. He gave up and looked out of the window, willing the aircraft to gobble up the miles.