The Regiment

by Christopher Nicole

  The realisation made his heartbeat quicken. It was a very long time since he had had any dealings with a woman at all, much less a very pretty girl. He would have to act the cad in every way, of course—she was Reger’s betrothed, and she was an innocent young girl...and Reger had protected him from the full wrath of the Boers. But she was an enemy, and so was Reger now. Seducing her would be a duty as well as a pleasure, if it could be done.

  If he was going to attempt it, the sooner he started the better. ‘I am very thirsty,’ he said.

  She considered for a moment, then reached out of the back of the wagon, where there was a barrel of water, dipped in a long-handled ladle and held it to his lips. Some spilt down the front of his opened tunic to soak his shirt, but enough went down his throat to take away a little of the dust-parched discomfort. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You are very kind.’

  Once again a long stare, then she sat down again. Before he could continue the conversation there was a great deal of bustle as the laager prepared to move out; they knew they could probably be tracked when the reinforcements Murdoch had sent for reached the troop. But he observed half a dozen riders heading back the way they had come, carrying a pole to which a torn sheet had been attached. They were going to negotiate. He wondered what Kitchener’s reaction would be? To write him off as a thorough nuisance, he suspected.

  Mevrouw Voorlandt herself drove the wagon, with her sister beside her. Murdoch observed that all the wagons were being driven by women, while their husbands mounted up, some forming an escort, others riding ahead to find a new camping ground and to make sure there was no risk of encountering an unsuspected British patrol; still others formed a rear guard—the whole manoeuvre was very military.

  Margriet remained seated in the rear of the Voorlandt wagon, her rifle across her knees. But as Reger had ridden off with the advance guard, Murdoch realised he would never have a better opportunity than now to break the ice.

  ‘When are you and Paul to be married?’ he asked.

  ‘Soon,’ she replied.

  ‘And will he then take you to live in Germany? On his uncle’s estates?’

  A faint frown creased her forehead. ‘We will live here,’ she said.

  ‘As fugitives, outlaws, for the rest of your life?’ he persisted. ‘That would be a pity. And a waste. You would love Berlin. And Berlin would love you.’

  This time the frown was deeper. ‘You have been to Berlin?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he lied.

  ‘Captain Reger will not speak of it. I should like to go to Berlin. But...it is all the fault of you British that I cannot,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps he will also take you to London, one day,’ Murdoch suggested.

  Her nostrils flared. ‘You talk too much, Englander,’ she said. ‘Be quiet.’

  Murdoch obeyed. He thought he might have made some progress.

  *

  The laager found another gully in which there was a spring of good water, and camped there for the night. Murdoch was taken out of the wagon, marched under the guard of two men into the bushes to perform his necessaries, and then fed, along with everyone else, around a roaring camp fire. The camaraderie was impressive, with small cups of geneva being passed around, solemn toasts—which he gathered were mainly to the damnation of the British—and then some deep-throated songs in which the women and children joined with enormous feeling.

  ‘They do not regard themselves as defeated,’ Paul told him. ‘They know they have been deserted by those, like Kruger, who led them into this war and then fled the moment the going got rough. But now they are determined never to submit to Kitchener’s yoke. They are a proud people. And I am proud to be one of them.’

  Murdoch’s wrists had been released to allow him to eat, and he worked his fingers gratefully as the pins and needles filled his hands. ‘I still say there is a time when a man must know that he cannot surmount the odds facing him. Eventually this laager will be surrounded by British troops. Then you will either surrender or be killed—with your women and children, who in the meantime will have been exposed to continuing hardships. There is no alternative for you. So why not end it now by submitting, and then endeavour to get on with your lives?’

  ‘This is these people’s lives,’ Paul told him. ‘They would rather die than have it end.’

  Next day the laager remained where it was, waiting, Murdoch surmised, for its messengers to return. But a considerable body of men, led by Reger, rode off— presumably to raid one of the railway lines; those who remained went up into the hills above the gully to watch. The women performed the daily tasks of milking the cows, cleaning the wagons and cooking the food, aided by the older children. Several remained interested in Murdoch, but Margriet Voorlandt sent them away. He had spent the night sleeping in the open, a Boer to either side of him, but now she allowed him to sit in the wagon, his hands again bound together in front of him, where she could watch him while she performed her chores. She scraped the family washing up and down her ridged board, every so often glancing at him. Her rifle leaned against the wagon wheel within reach, while one of the camp dogs lay at her feet.

  ‘It is a shame to see a beautiful woman like yourself labouring over a washtub,’ Murdoch remarked.

  Her head came up for a moment, then she resumed her labour.

  ‘Because you are, a beautiful woman,’ Murdoch said. ‘You should be dressed in satin and ride in a carriage. Paul should take you away from here to some place where you would enjoy those things. You should not be buried in this wasteland, with only a bullet or a concentration camp at the end of it.’

  Margriet emptied out the tub, muscles rippling in her sun-browned arms. ‘Are you married?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He decided against confessing that he was too young. ‘I have never met anyone I could fall in love with. Until now.’

  Her head started to turn, sharply, then she checked it. ‘You are in love?’

  ‘I could easily be,’ Murdoch told her. ‘In fact, I think I am, yes.’

  And realised that, although he was behaving like the most utter cad, he could very well mean it. He watched her strong body as she hefted the clothes to the line she had erected and began hanging them out.

  ‘You are an English swine,’ she said over her shoulder, but rather, he thought, to remind herself of that fact than from conviction.

  ‘I would like to show you London,’ he said.

  Once again her head turned. ‘You? I am betrothed to Captain Reger.’

  Captain Reger, he observed for the second time. Never Paul. ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘I am going to marry him.’

  ‘But you do not love him.’

  ‘A wife must love her husband.’

  ‘Must she? You will never love him if you do not love him now.’

  ‘He is the man my father has chosen as my husband,’ she said. ‘Now be quiet. You speak too much, Englander.’

  *

  The men returned that evening, apparently well satisfied with their day’s work—Murdoch could not discover what that had been—but concerned that their negotiating party had not yet come back. ‘We will remain here for one more day.’ Paul told Murdoch. ‘You had better hope that your General Kitchener has not abused a flag of truce, or it could go hard with you.’

  ‘You mean you’d hand me over to the women?’

  Paul grinned. ‘They would tear you limb from limb if I let them. I would not like that to happen, Murdoch. I like you. I liked you from the moment of our first meeting. Tell me, whatever happened to that plump little girl we flirted with?’

  ‘We are by way of being engaged,’ Murdoch said.

  ‘Ha ha. I thought she was quite fond of me. But I knew she was out to snare one of us. Well, well. I will wish you every happiness. But if Kitchener has taken our envoys, you may never be able to achieve it. You had best pray.’

  Or work even harder, Murdoch decided.

  ‘Do you
think it might be possible to have a bath and a shave?’ he asked Margriet the next morning after the men had left. ‘I feel absolutely filthy.’

  ‘It is not possible until Captain Reger returns,’ she said.

  ‘Why? You could take me to the creek along there and keep guard over me with your rifle. I would even give you my parole that I would not attempt to escape—without you.’

  He wasn’t sure she had noticed his addition. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. ‘How could I watch you bathing?’ she asked.

  ‘Would it concern you if we were lovers?’

  ‘We are not lovers, and your conversation is indecent, Englander.’

  ‘I would like to be your lover,’ he said. ‘I would like to take you to England, to London, to walk with you down the Strand and show you off. I would very much like to do those things. If you would come with me to England, you would have servants and carriages and fine clothes, and you would live in the most magnificent house.’ And you would save me from Rosetta Dredge, he thought.

  She tossed her head. ‘As your lover?’

  ‘As my wife.’

  ‘How can you say such things?’ she demanded, cheeks pinker yet. ‘When you have only known me for three days, and I am betrothed to another man? Your friend,’ she added.

  ‘Once he was my friend,’ Murdoch said. ‘Now he is my enemy. Worse, he is the enemy of your people, for encouraging them to continue this senseless war. As for my feelings for you, what are three days when a man sees the woman with whom he is going to fall in love? Those things are decided by fate and the stars, not by days and weeks and months.’

  She came close to him, standing above him, her thick yellow hair fluttering in the breeze. ‘You are a dishonourable liar and a cheat who is trying to take advantage of an innocent girl,’ she told him.

  ‘I will give you all of those things. I swear it on the grave of my father.’

  She stared at him, then dropped to her knees beside him. ‘That is a terrible lie to tell,’ she said.

  ‘It is not a lie.’ He placed his bound hands on top of hers, then slowly moved them up her arm. She caught her breath as she turned her head from side to side to make sure no one was looking, and he watched the bodice of her gown heaving. But she did not pull away. He wanted to hold his own breath, and for more reasons than that he felt success might be corning closer. She was a lovely girl, in every sense, and he would be proud to walk down the Strand with her on his arm, and to take her back to Broad Acres to show her off to Mother and the girls. He even thought they might love her too. But in addition, to think of possessing all of that strong beauty...he felt himself flushing as well as he gazed into her eyes. He had never thought of a woman quite so physically before.

  As she could tell. But then she said, ‘You are a bastard,’ and got up and walked away.

  At least, he thought, she had not said he was an English bastard.

  *

  When the commando returned that evening, it was accompanied by one of the five men sent to the British camp. There was a great deal of noise and bustle and excited shouting.

  Paul came over to Murdoch. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘your General Kitchener has acted the fool. He has refused to recognise our flag of truce and has placed four of our comrades under arrest. Do you know the message he has sent back to us? That if you are not returned unharmed within forty-eight hours, he will have them shot.’

  Murdoch kept his face impassive with an effort. ‘I warned you that he would never deal with you. I think he means what he says.’

  ‘That will be bad for you,’ Paul said. ‘Cornet Voorlandt has decided that if our people are shot, you will be executed in turn, before the eyes of one of your blockhouses.’

  ‘Will that solve anything?’

  ‘It will avenge our comrades,’ Paul told him. ‘And you would have your own general to thank for it.’

  Murdoch found it difficult to sleep that night. He had no doubt at all that Kitchener did mean what he had said; he was that sort of man. It was therefore very necessary either to compose himself for death, or finally to break down Margriet Voorlandt’s reserve tomorrow—and now he had absolutely nothing to lose. He could hardly wait for daylight, for the men to depart as usual and for the work of the encampment to commence. And for her to come and feed him at midday.

  ‘They are going to kill you,’ she said. ‘Father has resolved on it. Did you know that?’

  ‘I knew it was likely. Will you be happy to see me dead?’

  ‘I would not like you to die,’ she said.

  ‘Well, you are the only one who can prevent it. Margriet...I do love you. I will love you forever, if you will let me. I will take you to places you have never dreamed of. I will make you the happiest woman on earth. I swear it.

  She gazed at him. ‘Will you beat me?’ she asked.

  ‘Beat you? Good lord, no. Why should I do that?’

  ‘Father beats Mother,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And he beats me. He says it is good for a woman to be beaten regularly. And Captain Reger has told me that he will beat me too.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I do not like being beaten.’

  Murdoch held her hands. ‘I will never beat you, Margriet. I will never let any harm whatsoever come to you.’

  Again she made no attempt to free herself, but sat in silence for some time. Then she said, ‘If I try to help you and am found out, they will beat me worse than ever. And they will kill you.’

  ‘But they are going to kill me anyway,’ he reminded her. ‘And they are going to beat you anyway, too. Reger has told you this. So neither of us has anything to lose.’

  She freed herself and got up. ‘You are asking me to desert my family and my people. To betray my fiancé,’ she said.

  ‘I am asking you to come with me to a better life than you have ever known. And in doing that you may even be able to help your family. They can only be helped by ending this senseless war. Once that is done, you will see, the British will be magnanimous, and your father will soon be a prosperous farmer again.’ He could only hope he was right about that.

  She considered him for some moments, then said, ‘And Captain Reger?’

  ‘You do not love Captain Reger, Margriet. Nor will you ever. Can you tie yourself to a man you do not love, for the rest of your life?’

  ‘And will I love you?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you already do,’ he suggested.

  ‘I have work to do,’ she told him, her cheeks flaming.

  *

  He knew he was making progress, but it was now a race against time, and to make matters worse, that night he was shackled to the wheel of the wagon, with one of the men sleeping near him; clearly he was, as Margriet had said, already a condemned man. Tomorrow the forty-eight hours would be up, and Kitchener would undoubtedly carry out his threat—as Voorlandt and Reger expected. They rode out with the main body of the commando to seek news, leaving Murdoch still shackled, and today under the guard of a man.

  ‘When the commando returns tonight, I will be executed,’ Murdoch told Margriet as she fed him breakfast.

  ‘I could not help you last night,’ she said.

  ‘Then you must help me now.’

  ‘Now? In broad daylight? With men in the hills, watching us?’

  ‘They are not watching us,’ he told her. ‘They are watching the veldt. Release me and take me into the bushes, as if I needed to go to the toilet. You will cover me with your rifle. From there it is only a few yards to the horses.’

  ‘The men on watch will certainly look at us when they see two horses being taken,’ she insisted. ‘We cannot succeed.’

  ‘We will succeed because, like you, they will not suppose we will try it in broad daylight.’

  She chewed her lip. ‘I cannot take you into the bushes,’ she said. ‘That would be indecent. Nor do I have a key to your shackle. That man has it.’

  ‘Then tell him that I need to go. And you follow.’

  Once more she hesitated, then she went to
the guard and asked him to release Murdoch from the wagon. There was some discussion, but he finally agreed, unlocked the shackle and then nudged Murdoch towards the bushes with the muzzle of his rifle. Murdoch took a long breath as he realised he was being given the opportunity he sought, by a young girl who was abandoning family, friends and fiancé to come with him. Undoubtedly she was motivated by her hatred of the life she was being forced to lead, by the apparently pointless beatings which her father inflicted whenever he was in the mood, by the dream of living the life of a lady of fashion which he had suggested could be hers—as much as by any affection for him. Yet having made that promise, he would be honour bound to keep it. Just as he was honour bound to succeed now, for her sake as much as his own.

  The man said something, and Murdoch gathered he was considered to have gone far enough; certainly he was out of sight of the laager. He half turned, and the man gestured with his rifle, telling him to get on with it. He was unaware that Margriet had followed them and was only a few feet away, also carrying a rifle. Now he heard her footfall, and turned to remonstrate at her indecency in wishing to follow the men when they sought privacy. For that moment he was off guard, and Murdoch, bringing his hands together to use as a club, struck him across the back of the neck with all his strength.

  The Boer fell as if poleaxed. ‘You have killed him,’ Margriet gasped.

  ‘Just laid him out.’ Murdoch knelt and took the man’s hat, bandolier and Mauser. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘We are going to die,’ she said dolefully, but followed him through the bushes, bending double until they reached the far end of the thicket, where they were within a few yards of the picketed horses. As usual there was one man in charge, but he was at the far side. ‘Can you ride bareback?’ Murdoch asked.

  ‘Of course. I have done so since I was a child.’

  ‘Me too. Come on.’ He crept forward, knelt down and released the picket line. There was no time to select their mounts. He simply grasped the manes of the two nearest, and Margriet vaulted on to the first, hitching up her skirts to her thighs to ride astride, long white legs flashing in the sun. Murdoch was beside her a moment later, left hand still twined in the horses’ manes as he guided them through the rest of the animals, who were milling about aimlessly.