The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set

by Peter Rimmer

  Sebastian Brigandshaw, no longer even using a stick, but with a wry smile that understood the madness, searched the faces of the passengers. He was not quite sure if he would recognise the Irish journalist who had tried so hard to help Tinus Oosthuizen but the wedding invitation had gone out just the same, more as a gesture of thanks than an expectation of the man’s arrival, let alone his newly found family that had somehow survived the concentration camp. The man had written by what could only have been return of post saying how much he was looking forward to the wedding, and could he bring the mother of his children.

  Emily, who understood better than most the delicate way the man had referred to the woman, was sure that if the woman arrived, so would her children. With Alison, Barend, Tinka and Christo back at the farm, there were so many children a few more would make no difference. The man had gone on to write that he had taken a year’s sabbatical from the Irish Times to write a book on the war that had, at last, come to an end, and which he had been following from the beginning. Just the place to write would be on a farm miles from anywhere and with no distractions where he could walk for long periods and let the plot run freely through his mind. So while they were attending the wedding they would be looking for a small cottage to live in, and if anyone could find him such accommodation he, and hopefully the reading public, would be eternally grateful as not only had he found a title for his story, all of which was based on fact, he had found a publisher who had given him enough money to finance the writing of the book. And since he was writing he asked Sebastian what he thought of the title Seeds of Hatred, as the war had not only set English against Dutch but with Milner looking ahead to a new British dominion made up of the two Boer republics and the British colonies at the Cape and Natal, he rather thought the blacks would be left out of the political picture, creating the far worse spectre of a black-white hatred.

  Sir Henry Manderville had read the letter and made the decision.

  “Build him a house, Seb. A man of letters. Should be fun. I liked him. I can even put in one of Mr Crapper’s inventions so he won’t go bush happy. He will want to check with you about the animals from a hunter’s point of view. We can all help. Something to do. One of the problems I find out here is having too much time on my hands. Send him a wire inviting him to the farm for a year. How old are the children?”

  “I have not the first idea.”

  “The other children will enjoy the company.”

  Down the end of the train a carriage door opened and four mongrel dogs leapt out onto the gravel, the dogs cocking their legs against the train and the bitch dropping her bottom to the gravel and dirt. A young girl got onto the second step down when another gave her a push from behind. Nimbly, both of them jumped down on the mix of dirt and gravel. Both of them took off their shoes and called the dogs. The dogs ran back and sat down on their rumps next to the girls. Some of the ex-soldiers were looking at the girls in their bare feet. Behind the girls stepped down a young woman in a blue dress with a large blue bonnet who seemed among the noise to be telling the identical girls to put their shoes back on their feet. Even from fifty yards, Seb caught some of the words which were not in English. Then he saw Billy follow down the steps.

  “As you know, she’s Afrikaans,” he said to Henry Manderville.

  “Well, there’s the mother of the children. And the children. And the dogs. Bet you a guinea, Seb, those children can’t speak English. Now that will please young Barend. You know that boy really hates the English.”

  “After what we did to his father, I’m not surprised. I wonder what the ridgebacks and the fox terriers are going to say to those dogs? I’m beginning to wonder if my mother’s idea of a big wedding was such a good idea after all. Pity about James. I was rather beginning to like my brother James towards the end of his stay in Africa.”

  “You think he’ll be able to run Colonial Shipping?”

  “Of course. He’s taken on Eddie Doyle as general manager.”

  “And whose idea was that?”

  “Mine… She’s very pretty.”

  “Yes, she is. And so is Alison.”

  “And what is that meant to mean?”

  “I may be the grandfather of your children but I have only just turned fifty. Even at fifty, you recognise a handsome woman… Mr Clifford!” he shouted. “We’re over here. Do you have any luggage in the luggage van?”

  “Hello! Afraid so. Three trunks. Hope you don’t mind the dogs.”

  “Not at all,” said Seb as they shook hands.

  “This is Sarie Mostert and these are my twin daughters. Klara and Griet. It’s rather a long story.”

  “Hope you’ll put it in the book,” said Henry, shaking his hand.

  “Rather think I will.”

  Down on his knees, Seb was talking to the girls in Afrikaans.

  “That’s a relief,” said Billy. “They can’t speak any English. Where did he learn Afrikaans?”

  “From his partner, Tinus Oosthuizen.”

  “Yes, of course. The man who links us all together.”

  Being treated like a lady was a new experience for Sarie Mostert. The man with the blue eyes and yellow-white hair bleached by years in the sun had removed his wide-brimmed hat when introduced.

  “Are you an Afrikaner?” she asked.

  “No,” laughed Seb, answering her in Afrikaans. “My partner was Tinus Oosthuizen. General Oosthuizen. We hunted together for years and to pass the long nights around the fire he taught me the language of his father… I miss him very much… You don’t make many friends in life… I hope you’ll be happy with us while Billy writes his book. I’m sure it will be very good. Alison, Tinus’s widow, speaks Afrikaans. So does Emily, a little. All the children are bilingual and Harry also speaks Shona. That’s my eldest son. When he was growing up he had a black friend. We never did find out what happened to Tatenda… Your children don’t like wearing shoes.”

  “No.”

  “Neither do mine. Emily calls them little savages.”

  “Which animal gave you your hat?” she asked.

  “An elephant. I hunted elephant for their ivory when I was young and foolish. I keep the hat to remind me never to do it again… With all these dogs I rather think you also like animals, Miss Mostert. What happened to her pups?”

  “Kei took them. The father was Blackdog.”

  “Now that sounds interesting. Tell me on the way to the farm. The children can go with Billy and my father-in-law in the farm cart. You come with me in the trap and we’ll lead the way. My father-in-law is rather starved for intellectual conversation and has been looking forward to Billy. Do the dogs ride or run?”

  “They’ve been running all their lives.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  After an hour it was clear both of them were trying to have different conversations.

  “We seem to be at cross-purposes,” said Henry Manderville. “When you live in isolation, you will understand. Seb, Emily, Alison, even Tinus when he was alive and living with us. We had all talked out everything that was in our minds. You want to know my everyday reality and I want to find out what is happening in England. Enough to ask, did you bring any books?”

  “A trunkful.”

  “Then I am at your service. My impatience can wait. Now, what do you want to know?”

  “Where are the indigenous people? I see herd after herd of animals but where are the people?”

  “We rather take it for granted, but I have talked about it with Seb and Seb’s brother, Nat. He’s the missionary who is going to marry them after all these years. Says there is so much to do for the natives after they’ve heard the word of Christ. You’ll see his new church. I think it rather incongruous, a great big red brick building in the middle of the bush. But Nat says it’s just the start. The emblem of what Christ will do for them. The cross from the top of the church throws a long shadow when the sun goes down… At the beginning of the last century, a renegade general of Shaka Zulu went north to escape the w
rath of his king. After many stops and starts, he conquered Matabeleland. With him from Zululand went some of the best soldiers in the world. What they wanted they took. What they didn’t want they killed. The Shona, a loose affiliation of tribes speaking the same language, had no answer to the Zulu stabbing spear. In many ways, it was similar to the Roman short sword and just as effective. Mzilikazi, the first king of the Matabele, was succeeded by his son Lobengula.

  “For decade after decade, they sent impis killing and stealing every year until Rhodes put a stop to it. In Africa, if you are strong, it’s easier to live by rape and pillage than hard work. The Shona were decimated. We estimate a population of a quarter of a million in Rhodesia, an area the size of England and Wales. Nat says they need modern medicine. The infant mortality rate is appalling. There is very little order or government beyond the village level and the local chief. To get away from the Zulu assegais the Shona have lived for generations in the hills like rock rabbits trying to survive. Once, so they tell us, the Shona were the royal tribe of central Africa. There are strange ruins all over the place. What we British have to do is put in law and order so they can get on with their lives. There’s an awful lot of work and their witch doctors don’t like our interference. They won’t want to lose their power over the people. We had a rebellion, but that’s over and with all the new immigrants coming in we’ll soon have the place humming. It’s a very beautiful country, Mr Clifford. With God’s blessing, we will make it flourish.”

  “The only snag is people don’t like to be ruled by foreigners.”

  “We all have to be ruled by someone, someone we usually never know. Provided the ruler is fair and just I don’t think it matters where he comes from.”

  “You should tell that to the Irish.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should. So you think the people of Ireland would be better off free of the empire?”

  “Probably not. But their hearts think otherwise. Pride is a strong part of people. A proud people don’t like to be told what to do by foreigners. The history of mankind is littered with wars of liberation. Liberation from class oppression. Liberation from poverty. Liberation from being told what to do by a foreigner.”

  “And the liberator stirring up the trouble is always after power. History is also littered with people trying to free themselves from their liberators. It’s one thing to say what you are going to do for the people and another to do it. Most of your hopeful liberators are great orators or successful generals. The generals fare better. They parcel out the spoils to their cronies and kill anyone who wants a new liberation.”

  “Doesn’t that sound like the English? Sort out Lobengula, restore law and order and give the land to the English pioneers who conquered the country.”

  “You know more about Rhodesia than I thought. Isn’t British rule better for the Shona?”

  “Maybe you should have asked them.”

  “Their leaders will say no. They want power like the witch doctors. With Lobengula dead they no longer have to fear the Matabele.”

  “Instead they have to fear the British.”

  “Does the cycle ever end?”

  “Not until we destroy the planet.”

  “You don’t believe in British justice? The rule of law?”

  “Most often in life we have to choose between the best of many evils. The Greek and Roman Empires are examples of periods of man’s progress. I rather think the British Empire is another. But don’t tell that to my Irish editor or my Irish heart.”

  “What I see is right, others see as wrong.”

  “Maybe all of us are using excuses to benefit ourselves. Only a fool cuts off his nose to spite his face.”

  “Maybe you should tell that to your Irish Republicans.”

  “Touché.”

  “The trick is to see the right from the wrong, the wood from the trees.”

  “I like your use of the word trick.”

  “You think we should have stayed out of Africa?”

  “I think it will give you a lot more trouble than it is worth.”

  Billy Clifford stood up on the footstep in front of the farm wagon for a better view down into the Mazoe Valley. As far as his eyes could see, elephants were moving in a dust-covered line northwest, mile after mile of moving giants and, in between, the young herded by the old.

  “What is it?” he said in awe.

  “The great elephant walk,” said Henry Manderville next to him. “I’ve heard of it. Never thought to see the migration. Why Seb named the farm Elephant Walk. Tinus knew. Every fifteen, twenty years the elephants move north or south. No one knows why. Primal instinct. Going on long before man. They swim the rivers, the little ones holding their mothers’ tails by their trunks. Seb’s lucky. The line is northwest of the farm.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “Tinus saw it once. When they were crossing the Zambezi River. Riverbank to island. Island to river bank. Went on for days, flanked by predator prides of lion keeping their distance. Have a look through the field glasses. I can make out fifteen, maybe twenty lions sitting off the moving line in the long grass waiting for the weak. Away from the lion will be the hyena and jackal, scavengers waiting for the lions to kill. In the msasa trees will be vultures and crows, though it’s too far to see even with the glasses. The crows are the last in line to pick the carcass. Nature at its most powerful, even horrible. Some die for others to live as life evolves down the thousands of centuries. That, Billy Clifford, is a sight you and your children will never forget.”

  “For the first time since boarding the train the twins have been quiet when awake.” Billy turned to smile at them in the back of the cart.

  “Come on,” said Henry Manderville, “Their mother’s waving. Seb’s moving again. It’s safe to go down into the valley if we keep to the east. Emily on Elephant Walk will hear the rumbling of the moving herds and wonder what it is. Even after years in the bush, my daughter can be frightened.”

  “The power of nature,” said Billy as he sat back on the board that made a driving seat.

  “The power of God.”

  “Will we ever understand?”

  “However much we try, never. I don’t think we are even meant to understand. I have tried all my life without success. Now there goes Seb in a hurry back to the farm! They’ve been in love since they were children and that’s what makes it all worth the while.”

  Slowly, Henry Manderville let the horses take the farm cart down the pass into the valley. Ahead, the trap was picking up a nice speed towards Elephant Walk. Henry turned once more to smile at the twins seated on the trunks, quite happy to let life take them wherever it was going.

  Principal Characters

  Alison Ford — A nursemaid

  Arthur Brigandshaw — Sebastian’s eldest and debauched brother

  Barend, Tinka, Christo — Tinus’s children

  Billy Clifford — A newspaper reporter

  Bess Brigandshaw — Nathanial’s wife

  Captain Eddie Doyle — Captain of the Indian Queen

  Emily Manderville — Sebastian’s childhood sweetheart

  Elijah — Head foreman on Majuba farm

  Ezekiel Oosthuizen — Father of Frikkie, Karel and Piers and brother of Tinus

  Fran Shaw — Gregory Shaw’s wife

  Frikkie Oosthuizen — Nephew of Tinus

  Gregory Shaw — Friend of Sir Henry Manderville

  Harry, Madge, George, James — Sebastian’s children

  Helena (Crouse) Oosthuizen — Mother of Frikkie, Karel and Piers

  Jack Slater — A company man and acting administrator of Rhodesia

  James Brigandshaw — Sebastian’s second eldest brother

  Jeremiah Shank — A discharged and blacklisted seaman from the Merchant Navy

  Karel Oosthuizen — Nephew of Tinus

  Kei — A Majuba farm boy and son of Elijah

  Lord Edward Holland — Jeremiah Shank’s mentor

  Martinus Jacobus McDonald Oosthuizen (Tinus)
— Friend and business partner of Sebastian

  Mathilda Brigandshaw — Sebastian’s mother

  Nathanial Brigandshaw — Sebastian’s third eldest brother

  Piers Oosthuizen — Nephew of Tinus

  Sarie Mostert — A poor girl from the slums of Pretoria

  Sebastian Brigandshaw — Central character of Echoes from the Past

  Sir Henry Manderville — Emily’s father

  Tatenda — A native boy who loses his family and home after a massacre by the Matabele

  The Captain, Archibald Brigandshaw — Sebastian’s father

  Zwide — King Lobengula’s Induna

  Glossary

  Baas — A supervisor or employer, especially a white man in charge of coloured or black people

  Bittereinder — A faction of Boer guerrilla fighters resisting the forces of the British Empire in the later stages of the Second Boer War

  Burgher — An Afrikaans citizen of the Boer Republic

  Charles Rudd — A business associate of Cecil John Rhodes

  Clive — Clive of India - A British officer who established the military and political supremacy of the East India Company in Bengal

  Consols — A name given to certain British government bonds (gilts) first used in 1751 (originally short for consolidated annuities)

  Dorp — Afrikaans for a small village or town

  Induna — Tribal leader as well as a group of elite soldiers

  Kerel — Afrikaans for a boy

  Kloof — Afrikaans for a deep glen or ravine

  Klop — Give someone a smack

  Kopje — Afrikaans for a small hill in a generally flat area