Kako rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the subject. “When you lay dying, we promised your great spirit that we would become his servants if he would use his powers to save you. As you can see”—Kako swept a gesture the length of Trent’s body—“you appear to have been saved. Thus, we too must hold up our end of the bargain.”
Trent grinned. “I see. Well, I can tell you that it gives me a great thrill to hear you say it. But if we are going to engage in such a theological discussion, first I’m going to need a cup of tea, aye?”
Nyimbo scrambled to fetch the gourd they’d been using to drink from. She dipped it into the steaming pot over the fire and hurried to his side with the drink.
Trent sipped, relishing the feel of the hot liquid sliding down his throat. “Very good. Thank you. All right… How about we get on our way, and I will tell you of my God as we travel?” And perhaps that would keep him from worrying so much about whether he was going to arrive in time to save RyAnne from being sold and shipped off.
It was agreed upon, and it only took them a moment to gather their meager supplies and head down the trail.
From his position sitting on the board of the rickshaw, Trent said, “Let’s begin at the beginning.”
All that day, as they followed the wide trampled swath of grassland leading toward the coast, he told them of creation. Of Adam and Eve—that God created them because He wanted to have fellowship with mankind. Of how the devil deceived them, and how they sinned and were removed from paradise, and their relationship with God was broken. He told them of Cain killing his brother Abel. Of Noah and the flood.
Kako voiced the opinion that perhaps there should be another flood to wipe the evil slavers off the face of the earth.
So Trent explained that the rainbows that could be seen in the sky of a time were a symbol of God’s promise that He would never again flood the earth.
They stopped for a short time at noon to eat and refill their canteens from a small stream. While they ate, Trent told of Abraham and Sarah and of the promised child, Isaac, whose name meant laughter and who would be the seed from which a whole nation would spring.
When they started on their way again, he walked for a bit. This time he told them of Joseph and his brothers. Of Moses and how his people were enslaved in Egypt by Pharaoh.
Partway through that story, June tsked in disgust that this new spirit they were planning to serve had let his people become enslaved. But when Trent got to the part about the plagues and Pharaoh’s army drowning in the Red Sea, she lost her recalcitrance and opined that perhaps this spirit would be worth serving after all.
By the time he’d made it to David’s fight with the giant Goliath, his voice was giving out, and it was time to make camp for the night. “I will tell you more of my God and his people tomorrow,” he said.
And he did. All that week as they traveled, he walked them through the Scriptures. Through Jesus’s death on the cross and subsequent resurrection, and on into the book of Revelation, which promised all mankind would one day stand before God—some to live in heaven and some to face eternal damnation.
All three listened intently. Nyimbo seemed ready to believe anything he said—a fact that made Trent all the more careful with his word choices. But the stubborn logic he kept bumping up against from Kako and June was the fact that there were many spirits in many places, all of which men had to be mindful to please, and it was a “weary lot indeed for people to try and keep all the spirits appeased.”
Finally in frustration at the fire one night, Trent threw up his hands. “Look at me. I am well and whole. I even walked for several hours today. Have any of the spirits you have known before this one done such a thing for you as to bring a man back from the very brink of death?”
June pierced Kako with a look. “Never have I seen a man as sick as he was live to tell about it.”
Kako begrudgingly agreed.
At last perhaps they were getting somewhere. Trent lowered his hands with a breath of relief. “That’s because there is only one God. He is above all other spirits, of which there are many, to be sure. But we do not have to fear them, since we serve the One who rules them all. The One, in fact, who created them all.”
This logic seemed to satisfy, and they were less resistant to the truths of the Scriptures after that.
RyAnne woke while it was still dark, and lay in the night silence, listening to Moyo’s soft breaths on the thin blanket beside her.
The day they had crested the hill and seen the large caravan stretched out in the valley below them seemed so long ago now. For many days already they had been traveling with the much larger caravan. RyAnne and Moyo had been segregated from the main group once again, but this time there were other women with them. Each of these women had some special feature that made her physically attractive and thus worth more on the market. Some were of mixed blood like RyAnne and Moyo. Others simply had striking features that set them apart from the rest. But all of them would likely be sold as concubines to the palaces of the East, RyAnne had learned.
Fear quaking through her, RyAnne settled one hand over Moyo’s little head. What did the future hold for this little one whose father was so calloused as to sell her? She trembled, as she did every time she thought about the future.
Just as before, they continued to receive special treatment—they were fed twice a day instead of only once, and their guards stopped to water them every two hours, where the others only got water three times a day despite the merciless heat of an uncaring sun that scorched them from the moment of its rising till going down again.
The children of the main group had long-since ceased to even have the strength to cry, and RyAnne’s heart broke each time she glimpsed the empty vacant stares as they marched forward, simply putting one foot before the other. She had tried several times to sneak over and offer some of the children a bit of the extra fruit she took from the relative bounty she and the other segregated women were given, but twice she had been caught and dragged back, and the one time she had succeeded, she’d only had three tangerines to share. She’d run out of segments within moments, and the pitiful looks she’d received from the children who were unlucky enough not to get a section of the fruit had literally taken her to her knees in tears. Asha had found her there sobbing into her palms, and dragged her back to the segregated women, and this time he’d chained her ankles to those of two other women, one on each side of her.
“I told you nothing good could come from you letting yourself care about them,” he growled.
At least Moyo was still free to come and go, so each night the child continued to snuggle next to RyAnne and curl into her side for warmth. And no doubt for comfort also. RyAnne could still hardly coax more than two words at a time from the girl.
With a sigh, she turned on her side to relieve one ankle from the painful press of the manacles.
The first rays of gold-kissed coral light seeped along the edge of the eastern horizon, and RyAnne had just loosed a prayer of thanks for the privilege of seeing such beauty even in the midst of her circumstances, when the lion’s roar split the damp dawn air.
RyAnne jolted upright, prickles of terror tingling across the back of her neck, for the creature was very close this time. She darted her gaze around, trying to pin down exactly which direction the horrifying roar had originated from. Not across the encampment. Not behind the hill.
Next to her one of the women mewled loudly.
The terrified sound sent RyAnne’s heart into her throat.
What was that there?!
She saw the flicker of movement—more that of darker shadow shifting within a lighter one—and then, when the beast lifted his head and she could see the outline of his mane against the coal-blue dawn sky, she realized that the mound of blackness she’d first thought a knoll was actually the lion.
The creature was stretched out on its belly in the grass not more than a stone’s throw away!
Moyo whimpered by her side,
and RyAnne urged her to her feet and pushed her behind the line of women who were all now clambering to their knees. “Stay behind us!”
Languidly, the lion turned its gaze upon her. Tongue lolling, it panted as though it might be a family dog sprawled out on the back porch.
Down the line, others also located the lion and noticed how close it was. Another woman screeched, and then another.
Asha and the other guard were there now, bellowing at them to get on their feet. The second guard hurled his spear at the lion, but in his haste he missed the mark, and the spear went wide. RyAnne waited for Asha to throw his, but he did not. He stood his ground just behind the line of women, watching carefully to see what the lion’s next move would be. Why would he not throw it? With no guns provided to them, there wasn’t much more help he could offer than that.
More terrified yelps emanated from the women down the line.
RyAnne scrambled to her feet only to be immediately yanked off of them when the woman next to her panicked and tried to run. The chains clanked garishly and pressed painfully into her shins as she righted herself, never taking her eyes off the creature.
Agitated by all the noise, it leapt to its paws and paced a few steps one way and then back the other. Head lowered, muscles bunched, it stared at a woman just two down from RyAnne.
RyAnne’s heart hammered, and she frantically searched her memory for what Captain Dawson had said about scaring away lions. Face them, he had said. They were much less likely to attack when looking their prey in the face. And make lots of noise. That had been the solution to scaring off a great number of creatures. Loud noise.
Well, there wasn’t much danger of any of them turning away from the beast with him looming so close. She certainly didn’t want to turn her back on it! But…a terrified silence had now settled over the women, and that simply would not do. “We must all yell! Together!”
“Yes!” Asha took up her instruction and passed it on down the line, adding his own voice to that of the women quickly catching on to his instructions. The other guard seemed to have disappeared altogether.
RyAnne raised her voice like a warrior about to strike his first blow. On top of that she pounded her feet rapidly on the ground to make the chains around her ankles rattle loudly. Women all up and down the line followed her lead even as they used the pounding footsteps to move themselves away from the lion as quickly as a line of people all chained together could move.
Certainly with all this commotion, the lion should have been startled off. But instead it merely lowered its head and curled one lip into a low snarl as it padded after them. And there was a look of intent purpose in its fearsome gleaming eyes.
Asha stepped in front of the women, and now he and his spear were the only line of protection between the women and the beast. But there were too many of them, and too spread out, for one man to protect.
The first rays of the sun lifting above the horizon revealed the flinch of muscles rippling beneath the scruffy golden pelt. And then the lion leapt forward with a feral screech.
Asha and the women lurched back but, hampered by their chains, two of the women fell. They desperately scrabbled to regain their feet.
With the lion’s attention on the felled women, Asha leapt forward and thrust his spear into the lion’s side.
Yowling a bellow of pain, the lion spun toward him, and since Asha had retained his hold on the spear, perhaps with the hope of withdrawing it for another thrust, the momentum of the creature’s spin knocked the shaft of the spear against Asha’s still-healing arm. RyAnne heard him gasp in pain just before the creature swiped out with one great paw and sent him literally flying through the air.
The women cried out, and it had all happened so quickly that the two who had fallen were still trying to right themselves.
Bellowing a roar, the lion struck out at the closest one.
The captive screamed as claws tore open flesh along her leg as easily as a letter opener might slit open a letter.
Moyo froze behind RyAnne, and RyAnne was moving so fast when she backed into her that the momentum took them both to the ground. Sensing new prey, the lion turned toward them with another feral roar.
RyAnne jumped to her feet but fell again because Moyo was tangled in her ankle chains.
The creature padded another step toward them, the spear still protruding from its side.
Behind it, Asha climbed to his feet and seemed to assess himself. RyAnne caught a glimpse of red blood against black skin in the morning gleam of the sun before she returned her attention to the lion stalking toward her.
“Jesus! Please, help!”
With a warrior’s cry, Asha vaulted over the lion and landed into a crouch before the beast. He took up a stone in one hand and hurled it with all his might at the lion’s head. The stone connected with a sharp crack.
The beast yelped, shook its great head, and then trotted a few paces away.
Women all up and down the line, seeing that rocks might be their salvation, took up stones and pelted the cat’s tawny hide with them.
Giving one last growl that sounded more like the whine of a petulant girl denied the privilege of a year’s debutante season, the lion snapped at the spear in its side, succeeding only in bumping the spear and exacerbating the injury. With a mewl of despair, it shook its pelt as if to remove their reproach, and trotted off into the sunrise.
Relief sent a sob shuddering through RyAnne, and all up and down the line other women began to cry too. Moyo was on her feet now and launched herself at RyAnne, burying her face in her neck and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, honey…” RyAnne soothed her hands over the child’s back. “Shhhh. I’m alright. We’re all alright now. Shhhhh. I’ve got you.”
Asha met her gaze above the child’s head, and she took in the angry bleeding scratches across his chest. Thankfully, he must have leapt back far enough to keep the claws from sinking in too deep, for already the blood seemed to be clotting. She would need to clean them later for him, but for now… She angled a glance to the woman the lion had injured. She lay just a few feet away trembling in silent shock as she stared down at a leg so severely lacerated she would likely never have the use of again.
Asha snapped his fingers at the two women on either side of her. “You there. Do your best to stop the bleeding. I will fetch Jabir.”
Moyo continued to shudder, and RyAnne continued to sooth her, but all hope began to wane.
Though she had escaped this lion, her future would be full of many more lions, she feared. Oh, they would have a different visage, but they would be lions all the same.
Moyo whimpered again.
RyAnne soothed her once more, but inside she quaked.
For today she had caught a glimpse of her future. Of Moyo’s future too. And it was very dark and hideous. Very dark and hideous indeed.
The morning of the ninth day, much to Trent’s relief, they finally caught up to the slave caravan. They had nearly come upon them in the late evening the night before. But Kako had urged caution about proceeding in the dark of night when they had no idea what they might be facing and were weaponless themselves—other than Trent’s one small pistol, which was woefully low on bullets since they had been using it to bag small game for eating as they traveled. The only other weapons they had were the two stout clubs Kako had selected from windblown branches beneath a cluster of trees a few days back. And since Trent had been nearly faint with exhaustion after walking five straight hours yesterday—the first time he’d done that much since his recovery—he had agreed, despite everything in him that urged him to rush in to RyAnne’s rescue.
Knowing she was so close, even in his exhaustion, he hadn’t slept well, but this morning he and Kako had left June and Nyimbo back with the rickshaw and set out to see what they could find.
And when they crested the hill above the encampment just after dawn and crept to the edge to peer into the valley below, his body vibrated with energy that was ready to take on any battle
to get to RyAnne this day.
Even though they’d been following the vast swath cut through the grassland by the trampling feet of hundreds of people for more than a week, Trent had not been prepared to discover the sheer number of captives Khalifa had abducted.
His gut curled with a sick feeling as he took in the valley teeming with line after line of captives all chained together. And in that moment he knew that Llewellyn Cornwall had been correct in his assessment that Khalifa had to be working with someone on the island. The only legal thing to do with all these slaves would be to ship them to Zanzibar and sell them to plantation owners. However, there were infinitely more people here than the economy on the island could absorb. They had to be smuggling them, either directly from Bagamoyo, or taking them to the island and then smuggling them on from there. More likely the latter. Too many British ships patrolled the waters near Bagamoyo. Khalifa likely wouldn’t want to take that risk when he could move them from a less chancy place. But they wouldn’t sail them to the Stone Town harbor, for they wouldn’t want to pay the duty required there. So that would limit the number of places they could take them on the island. They would need a harbor deep enough to sail into and a place to house the captives till they could be sorted and shipped off again. Where would that be? He would have to put his mind to work on that.
The encampment seemed to be writhing with a measure of chaos this morning. A man darted through the clusters of chained people calling, loudly enough that Trent could hear it through the dawn stillness, for someone named Jabir. At first, because of the clearly visible blood on the man’s chest, Trent thought he was seeking medical attention for himself. But when a second man stumbled from a tent, obviously still half asleep, the injured man directed him with dramatic gestures, and with great verve and insistence back in the direction he’d come running from.
The Trail of Chains: A serialized historical Christian romance. (Sonnets of the Spice Isle Book 5) Page 6
