When the Lion Feeds (20 page)

He's going to kill Sean, she thought. Garrick went out of the room without looking at her again. She waited with her hands clenched at her sides and her whole body stretched tightly. When the shot came at last it was surprisingly muted and un-warlike. Her body relaxed, her hands opened and she began to cry softly.

Garry limped down the passage. The pistol was heavy and the checkered grip rough in his hand. There was light showing under the study door at the end of the passage.

It was unlocked. Garrick went in.

Sean sat with his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands but he looked up as Garrick came in through the door. The scratches had already dried black across his cheek, but the flesh around them was red and inflamed.

He looked at the pistol in Garrick's hand. She has told you. There was no question or expression in his voice. Yes. I hoped that she wouldn't, said Sean. I wanted her to spare you that at leastSpare me?

Garrick asked. What about her? Did you think of her? Sean did not answer, instead he shrugged and laid back tiredly in his chair. I never realized before what a merciless swine you are, choked Garrick. I have come to kill you! Yes. Sean watched the pistol come up. Garrick was holding it with both hands, his sandy hair hung forward onto his forehead. My poor Garry, Sean said softly and immediately the pistol started to shake. It sank until Garrick held it, still with both hands between his knees. He crouched over it, blubbering, chewing at his lips to stop himself. Sean started out of his chair to go to him, but garrick recoiled against the door-jamb. Keep away from me! he yelled, don't touch me. He threw the pistol, the sharp edge of the hammer cut across Sean's forehead, jerking his head back. The pistol glanced off and hit the wall behind him. It fired and the bullet splintered the panelled woodwork.

We're finished, Garrick screamed. We're finished for ever. He groped wildly for the door and stumbled out into the passage, through the kitchens into the rain. He fell many times as the grass caught his peg but each time he scrambled up and kept running. He sobbed with each step in the utter darkness of the night.

At last the growl of the rain-engorged Baboon Stroorn blocked his way.

He stood on the bank with the drizzle blowing into his face. Why me, why always me? He screamed his agony into the darkness. Then with a rush of relief as strong as the torrent in the river-bed below him he felt the moth flutter its wings behind his eyes. The warmth and the greyness closed about him and he sank down onto his knees in the mud.

Sean took very little with him: his bedroll, a rifle and a spare horse.

Twice in the darkness he lost the path to Mbejane's kraal but each time his horse found it again.

Mbejane had built his big grass beehive hut well away from the quarters of the other servants, for he was Zulu of royal blood. When at last sean came to it there were a few minutes of sleepy stirring and muttering within before Mbejane, with a blanket draped around his shoulders and an old paraffin lamp in his hand, came out to Sean's shouts.

What is it, Nkosi? I am going, Mbejane. Where to? Wherever the roads lead. Will you follow? I will get my spears, said Mbejane.

Old man Pye was still in his office behind the bank when they reached lady-burg. He was counting the sovereigns and stacking them in neat golden piles and his hands were as gentle on them as a man's hands on the body of the woman he loves, but he reached quickly for the open drawer at his side as Sean shouldered the door open. You don't need that, said Sean and Pye lifted his hand guiltily off the pistol. Good gracious! I didn't recognize you, my boy. How much have I got credited to my account! Sean cut through the pleasantries. This isn't banking hours, you know. Look here, Mr Pye, I'm in a hurry. How much have I got?

Pye climbed out of his chair and crossed to the big iron safe. Shielding it with his body he tumbled the combination and swung open the door. He brought the ledger across to the desk. Carter, Cloete, Courtney, he muttered as he turned the pages. Ah, Ada, Garrick, Sean. Here we are.

Twelve hundred and ninety-six pounds eight and eight pence; of course, there are last month's accounts at the store still unpaid. Call it twelve hundred then, said Sean. I want it now and while you are counting it you can give me pen and paper. Help yourself, there on the desk. Sean sat at the desk, pushed the piles of gold out of his way, dipped the pen and wrote. When he had finished he looked up at old Pye.

Witness that, please. Pye took the paper and read it through. His face went limp with surprise. You're giving your half share of Theunis Kraal and all the cattle to your brother's first born! he exploded. That's right, please witness it. You must be mad, protested Pye. That's a fortune you're giving away. Think what you're doing, think of your future. I had hoped that you and Audrey -'He stopped himself and went on. Don't he a fool, manPlease witness it, Mr Pye, said Sean and, muttering under his breath, Pye signed quickly. Thank you. Sean folded the document, slipped it-into an envelope and sealed it. He put it away inside his coat.

Where's the money? he asked.

Pye pushed a canvas bag across to him. His expression was one of disgust; he wanted no truck with fools.

Count it, he said. I'll take your word for it, said Sean and signed the receipt.

Sean rode out past the sale-pens and up the escarpment along the road to pietermaritzburg. Mbejane trotted at his stirrup leading the spare horse. They stopped at the top of the escarpment. The wind had blown the clouds open and the starlight came through. They could see the town below them with here and there a lighted window.

I should have said goodbye to Ada, Sean thought. He looked down the valley towards Theunis Kraal. He could see no light. He touched the letter in the inside pocket of Witwatersrand his coat. I'll post it to garry from Pietermaritzburg, he spoke aloud.

Nkosi? asked Mbejane. I said, "It's a long road, let us begin. "'Yes, agreed Mbejane. Let us begin. They turned north from Pietermaritzburg and climbed steadily up across bleak grassland towards the mountains.

On the third day they saw the Drakensberg, jagged and black as the teeth of an ancient shark along the skyline.

It was cold; wrapped in his kaross Mbejane trailed far behind Sean. They had exchanged perhaps two dozen words since they left Pietermaritzburg for Sean had his thoughts and they were evil company. Mbejane was keeping discreetly out of his way. Mbejane felt no resentment, for a man who had just left his home and his cattle was entitled to brood.

Mbejane was with sadness himself, he had left a fat woman in his bed to follow Sean.

Mbejane unplugged his small gourd snuff-box, picked a pinch and sniffed it delicately. He looked up at the mountains. The snows upon them were turning pink in the sunset and in a little while now they would make camp, and then again perhaps they would not. It made no difference.

Sean rode on after dark. The road crossed another fold in the veld and they saw the lights in the valley below.

Dundee, Sean thought without interest. He made no effort to hasten his horse but let it amble down towards the town. Now he could smell the smoke from the coal mine, tarry and thick in the back of his throat.

They entered the main street. The town seemed deserted in the cold.

Sean did not intend stopping, he would camp on the far side; but when he reached the hotel he hesitated.

There was warmth in there and laughter and the sound of men's voices and he was suddenly aware that his fingers were stiff with cold.

Mbejane, take my horse. Find a place to camp beyond the town and make a fire so I won't miss you in the dark. Sean climbed down and walked into the bar. The room was full, miners most of them, he could see the grey coal dust etched into their skins. They looked at him incuriously as he crossed to the counter and ordered a brandy. He drank it slowly, making no attempt to join the loud talk around him.

The drunk was a short man but built like Table Mountain, low, square and solid. He had to stand on tiptoe to put his arm around Sean's neck.

Have a drink with me, Boetie. His breath smelt sour and old.

No thanks. Sean was in no mood for drunks. Come on, come on, the drunk insisted; he staggered and Sean's drink slopped onto the counter.

Leave me alone. Sean shrugged the arm away. You've got something against me? No. I just feel like drinking alone. You don't like my face, maybe? The drunk held it close to Sean's. Sean didn't like it.

Push off, there's a good fellow.

The drunk slapped the counter. Charlie, give this big ape a drink. Make it a double. If he don't drink it, I ram it down his throat. Sean ignored the proffered glass. He swallowed what remained in his own and turned for the door. The drunk threw the brandy in his face. The spirit burned his eyes and he hit the man in the stomach. As his head came down Sean hit him again, in the face. The drunk spun sideways, fell and lay bleeding from his nose. What you hit him for? Another miner was helping the drunk into a sitting position. It wouldn't cost you nothing to have a drink with him.

Sean felt the hostility in the room; he was the outsider. This boy is looking for troubleIgoHe's a tough monkey. We know how to handle tough monkeysCome on, let's sort this bastard out Sean had hit the man as a reflex action. He was sorry now, but his guilt evaporated as he saw them gathering against him. Gone too was his mood of depression and in its place was a sense of relief. This was what he needed.

There were six of them moving in on him in a pack.

Six was a fairly well-rounded number. One of them had a bottle in his hand and Sean started to smile. They were talking loudly, spreading courage and waiting for one of their fellows to start it.

Sean saw movement out of the side of his eye and jumped back to cover it with his hands ready. Steady on there, a very English voice soothed him. I have come to offer my services. It seems to me you have adversaries and to spare. The speaker had stood up from one of the tables behind Sean. He was tall, with a gauntly ravage d face and an immaculate grey suit.

I want them all, said Sean.

Damned unsporting. The newcomer shook his head.

I'll buy the three gentlemen on the left if your price is reasonable.

Take two as a gift and consider yourself lucky. Sean grinned at him and the man grinned back. They had almost forgotten the impending action in the pleasure of meeting'Very decent of you. May I introduce myself, Dufford Charleywood. He shifted the light cane into his left hand and extended his right to Sean.

Sean Courtney. Sean accepted the hand. Are you bastards going to fight or what! protested one of the miners impatiently.

rWe are, dear boy, we are, said Duff and moved lightly as a dancer towards him, swinging the cane. Thin as it was it made a noise like a well-hit baseball along the man's head.

Then there were five, said Duff. He flicked the cane and, weighted with lead, it made a most satisfactory swish. Like a swordsman he lunged into the throat of the second miner. The man lay on the floor and made a strangling noise.

,The rest are yours, Mr Courtney, said Duff regretfully.

Sean dived in low, spreading his arms to scoop up all n the pile of bodies four pairs of legs at once. He sat up i and started punching and kicking.

Messy, very messy, murmured Duff disapprovingly.

The yelps and thuds gradually petered into silence and Sean stood up.

His lip was bleeding and the lapel was torn off his jacket.

Drink? asked Duff.

Brandy, please. Sean smiled at the elegant figure against the bar. I won't refuse another drink this evening. They took the glasses to duff's table, stepping over the bodies as they went.

Mud in your eye!

Down the old red lane!

Then they studied each other with frank interest, ignoring the clearing up operations being conducted around them.

,You are travelling? asked Duff.

Yes, are you? No such luck. I am in the permanent employ of Dundee collieries Ltd. You work here! Sean looked incredulous for Duff was a peacock among pigeons.

Assistant Engineer, nodded Duff. But not for long; the taste of coal-dust sticks in my craw. May I suggest something to wash it outV A splendid idea, agreed Duff.

Sean brought the drinks to the table.

Where are you headed? asked Duff.

I was facing north when I started, shrugged Sean, I just kept going that way. Where did you start from? South. Sean answered abruptly.

Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Duff smiled. Yours is brandy, isn't it?

The Barman came round from behind the counter and crossed to their table.

Hello, Charlie, Duff greeted him. I take it you require compensation for the damage to your fittings and furniture?

Don't worry about it, Mr Charleywood. Not often we have a good barney like that. We don't mind the odd table and chair as long as it's worth watching. Have it on the house. That's extremely good of you. That's not what I came across for, Mr Charleywood.

I've got something I'd like you to take a look at, you being a mining chap and all. Could you spare a minute, sir? Come on, Sean.

Let's see what Charlie's got for us. My guess is it's a beautiful woman. It's not actually, sir, said Charlie seriously and led the way through into the back room. Charlie reached up and took a lump of rock down from one of the shelves. He held it out to Duff. What do you make of that?