Wilbur Smith - C11 Blue Horizon
Page 28
"We must leave gifts here for the Old People," Xhia said, and Goffel translated.
Koots looked uncomfortable. "What gifts?" he asked.
"Something to eat or drink, and something pretty," Xhia told him. "Your little shiny bottle."
"No!" Koots said, but without conviction. He had been saving the last few inches of Hollands gm in his silver flask, rationing himself to an occasional sip.
The Old People will be angry," Xhia warned. "They will conceal the sign from us."
Koots wavered, then reluctantly unfastened the flap of his saddlebag and brought out the silver flask. Xhia reached up for it, but Koots kept his grip. "If you fail me again, I will have no further use for you, except to fatten the jackals." He gave up the flask.
Chanting softly Xhia approached the shrine and poured a few drops of the gin down the face of the rock. Then he picked up a fist-sized stone and battered the metal flask. Koots winced, but kept silent. Xhia placed the flask with the other offerings in the niche, then backed away, still singing softly.
"Now what do we do?" Koots demanded. This place made him nervous. He wanted to be gone. "What about the spoor?"
"If the Old People are pleased with your gift they will reveal it to us. We must go on into the sacred places," Xhia told him. "First you must take this rope from my neck, or the Old People will be angered that you treat one of their own tribe in this manner."
Koots looked doubtful, but Xhia's plea made good sense. He reached a decision. He drew his musket from its sheath and cocked the hammer. Tell him that he must stay close. If he tries to run, I will ride him down and shoot him like a rabid dog. This gun is loaded with goose-shot and he has seen me shoot. He knows I don't miss," he ordered Goffel, and waited while he translated for the little Bushman.
"Turn him loose." He nodded to Oudeman. Xhia made no attempt to escape, and they followed him up to the base of the cliff. Abruptly Xhia vanished, as though by the magic of his forefathers.
With a shout of anger, Koots spurred his horse forward, his musket at the ready. Suddenly he reined in and stared with amazement into the narrow gateway in the rock that opened in front of him.
Xhia had disappeared into the dim depths of the passage. Koots hesitated to follow him in there. He could see that once he was inside it the passage was too narrow for him to turn his horse. The other troopers hung back behind him.
"Goffel!" Koots shouted. "Go in there and pull the little bastard out."
Goffel looked behind him, back down the slope, but Koots turned the cocked musket on him.
"If I can't have Xhia, then by God you will have to do."
At that moment they heard Xhia's voice issue from the mouth of the passage, and he was singing.
"What is he saying?" Koots demanded, and Goffel looked mightily relieved.
"It is his song of victory. He is thanking his gods for their kindness in revealing the spoor to him."
Koots's misgivings evaporated. He swung down from the saddle and strode into the passage. He found Xhia around the first bend, singing, clapping and giggling with triumph. "What have you found?"
"Look under your feet, you white baboon," Xhia told him, making sure he would not understand the insult, but pointing at the trampled white sand. Koots understood the gesture, but still he was uncertain. Any definition of the spoor was long ago obliterated: it was merely a dimpling of the surface.
"How can he be sure that this is our quarry?" Koots demanded of Goffel as he came up. "It could be anything a herd of quagga or eland."
Xhia answered this objection with a rapid fire of denials, and Goffel spoke for him: "Xhia says that this is a sacred place. No wild animal ever passes through here."
"I don't believe that!" Koots scoffed. "How would an animal know?"
"If you cannot feel the magic here, your eyes are blind and your ears are deaf indeed," Xhia told him, but he went to the nearest wall of the passage and peered minutely at it. Then he began to pick things off the rock, the way a baboon picks nits from a companion's scalp. He gathered whatever it was in the palm of his hand, then came back to Koots. Between forefinger and thumb he offered him something. Koots had to look closely to see that it was a hair.
"Behold, with your pale and disgusting eyes, O eater of dung!" he said, so Koots could not understand. "This white hair came from the shoulder of the gelding, Frost. This brown and silky one from Trueheart when she touched the rock, and this yellow one from Lemon. This dark one is from Somoya's horse, Drumfire." He hooted scornfully. "And now do you believe that Xhia is the mightiest hunter of all the San, and that he has worked a great and solemn magic and revealed the spoor to you?"
"Tell the little yellow ape to stop chattering, and take us after them." Koots tried, unsuccessfully, to disguise his elation.
What river is that?" Koots asked. They stood on the peak and looked down from the mountains, over endless plains and vistas of rolling grassland, to another range of hills, pale against the milky blue of the tall African sky at noon day.
"It is called the river Gariep," Goffel translated. "Or, in the language of the San, Gariep Che Tabong, the River Where the Elephant Died."
"Why is it called that?" Koots wanted to know.
"It was on the banks of this river when he was a young man that Xhia slew the great elephant he had followed for many days."
Koots grunted. Since the Bushman had found the spoor again Koots was more kindly disposed towards him. He had treated his burns and other injuries from the field chest of medicines he carried on the packhorse. Xhia healed quickly, the way a wild animal does.
Tell him that if he can find where Somoya crossed this river, I will give him a fine cow as his own animal when we return to the colony. Then, if he can lead me to the capture or the killing of Somoya, I will give him five more fat cows." Koots was now regretting his previous harsh treatment of the Bushman. He knew that if he wanted to catch up with the fugitives, he must make amends and buy back Xhia's loyalty.
it
Xhia received this promise of wealth joyfully. Few men of the San owned a sheep, let alone a single head of kine. Childlike, his memory of abuse faded with the offer of reward. He started down the mountain slopes towards the plains and the river with such alacrity that even on horseback Koots was hard-pressed to keep him in sight. When they reached the river they found wild game concentrated on these waters in numbers that Koots had not imagined possible. The herds within the colony had been hunted extensively since the first Dutch colonists, under Governor van Riebeeck, had set foot ashore almost eighty years before. The burghers were all enthusiastic hunters, indulging in the pastime not only for the thrill of the chase but also for the meat, hides and ivory it yielded. Within the borders of the colony at any time of day one could hear the boom of their long roers, and in the season of the great animal migrations across the plains they had organized themselves into large mounted parties to hunt the wild horses, the quagga, for their hides, the spring buck and eland for their meat. After one of these great jags the vultures darkened the sky with their wings and the stench of death hung in the air for months thereafter. The bleached bones lay like banks of snowy arum lilies, gleaming in the sunlight.
As a consequence of these predations the game had been severely reduced in numbers, and even the quagga had become something of a rarity within the immediate environs of the town and castle. The last elephant herds had been driven far from the frontiers of the colony almost forty years before, and only a few hardy souls occasionally made the journey of months and even years into the remote wilderness to pursue them. In fact, not many white men had ventured even thus far from the safety and security of the colony, which was why this mighty gathering of wild beasts was a revelation to Koots.
Game had been scarce in the mountains, and they were hungry for fresh meat so Koots and Oudeman spurred ahead of the rest of the troop. Riding hard they caught up with a herd of giraffe who had been grazing on the top branches of an isolated clump of acacia trees. These gigantic creatures r
an with a ponderous, swaying motion, twisting their bushy tails up on to their haunches. They thrust their long, sinuous necks forward as though to counterbalance their massive bodies. Koots and Oudeman cut a young cow out of the herd of a dozen and, riding hard at her heels, with the stones and pebbles flung up by her hoofs whizzing past their ears they fired into her rump, trying to send a ball through the ridge of her spine, which showed clearly under her dappled brown and yellow skin. At last Koots pressed in so close to her that he almost touched her with the muzzle of his musket, and this time the ball flew true. It severed her spinal column and she collapsed in a cloud of
dust and debris. Koots dismounted to reload and as soon as his weapon was recharged he ran close to her. She was thrashing about weakly, but he avoided the convulsive kicks of her long front legs, which could snap the spine of an attacking lion. Then he fired another ball into the back of her skull.
That night while the hyena squalled and squabbled with a pride of lions for possession of what remained of the colossal carcass, Koots and his men feasted around their campfire on marrow from the giraffe's thigh-bones. They cracked the roasted bones between two rocks, and out slid long cylindrical lumps of the rich yellow marrow, as thick as a man's arm and twice as long.
In the dawn when Koots awoke, he found Goffel, who was on sentry duty, fast asleep. Xhia was gone. Raging, Koots booted Goffel in the stomach and crotch, then laid into him with a bridle, swinging the bit end and the metal cheek buckles across his shoulders and close-cropped scalp. At last he stepped back and snarled, "Now, take the spoor and catch that little yellow ape, or there'll be another helping of ginger for you."
Xhia had made no attempt to cover his tracks so even Goffel could read them easily. Without breakfast they mounted up and rode after Xhia before he could make good his escape. On the open plain Koots hoped to spot him at a distance, and even a Bushman could not hope to outdistance a good horse.
Xhia's tracks led straight towards the dark green ribbon of riverine bush on the horizon that marked the course of the Gariep river. They were only half-way there when Koots saw the spring buck herds ahead pranking, leaping high in the air with all four feet together and noses almost touching their front hoofs, the snowy dorsal plumes flashing in full display.
"Something's alarming them," Goffel said. "Maybe it is the Bushman." Koots spurred forward. Then, through the dust kicked up by the antics of the spring buck herds, he saw a tiny familiar figure trotting towards them.
"By the breath of Satan!" Koots swore. "It's him. It's Xhia and he's coming back!"
As he came towards them Xhia broke into a dance and a litany of triumph and self-congratulation. "I am Xhia, the greatest hunter of all my tribe. I am Xhia, the beloved of the ancestors. My eyes are like the moon for they see all, even in the night. My arrows are swift as swallows in flight, and no animal may run from them. My magic is so powerful that no man may avoid it."
That same day Xhia led them to the Gariep river, and he showed
Koots the wheel ruts of many wagons scored deeply into the soft alluvial earth along its banks.
"Four great wagons and one small one passed this way." Through Goffel he explained the sign to Koots. "With the wagons were many animals, horses and cattle and some sheep. See here! The small wagon has returned towards the colony, but the four great wagons have gone on into the wilderness."
"Whose wagons are these?" Koots asked him.
"In all the colony there are few burghers rich enough to boast five wagons. One of those is Klebe, the father of Somoya."
"I do not understand." Koots shook his head.
Goffel explained: "It seems that while Bakkat and Somoya led us on a chase through the mountains, Klebe came here to the Gariep with these wagons. When Somoya had stolen our horses and knew we could follow him no further, he came back here to meet his father."
"What of the small wagon that went back towards the colony?" Koots wanted to know.
Xhia shrugged. "Perhaps after he had given the great wagons to his son, Klebe returned to the Cape." Xhia touched the wheel marks with his toe. "See how deeply the wheels have bitten into the earth. They are heavily laden with goods."
"How does Xhia know all this?" Koots demanded.
"Because I am Xhia, with eyes like the moon, that sees all."
"That means the little bastard is guessing." Koots lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his balding pate.
"If we follow the wagons Xhia will give you proof," Goffel suggested. "Or if he does not, you will shoot him and save yourself the cattle you promised him."
Koots replaced his hat. Despite his forbidding expression he felt more confident of eventual success than at any time since they had left the colony.
It is plain to see that they are carrying much cargo, Koots thought. It may be that those wagons are worth almost as much as the bounty money itself. He looked towards the heat-shimmering horizon where the tracks led. Out there, there is no civilized law. Head money or cargoes, one way or the other I smell a sweet profit in this.
He dismounted and inspected the wagon tracks more closely, giving himself time to think. "How long since the wagons passed this way?"
Goffel referred the question to Xhia.
"Some months. It is not possible to say more than that. But wagons travel slowly, while horsemen travel fast."
Koots nodded to Goffel. "Good, very good! Tell him to follow, and find proof of who these wagons belong to."
They found proof a hundred leagues further and twelve days later. They came to a place where one of the wagons had run into an ant bear hole and been badly damaged. A number of the spokes in one of the front wheels had been shattered. The travellers had camped for some days at the site of the accident, making repairs to the wagon. They had whittled and shaved new spokes, and discarded the damaged ones.
Xhia retrieved one of the broken pieces from where it had been thrown into the grass. He cackled with triumph. "Did not Xhia tell you this truth and that truth? Did you believe him? No! You did not believe him, you stupid white maggot." He brandished the broken spar. "Know now, once and for all time, white man, that Xhia sees all and knows all." He brought the fragment of the spoke to Koots and showed him the design that had been burnt into the wood with a branding iron. "Do you know this picture?" he demanded.
Koots grinned wolfishly and nodded with recognition.
It was the stylized picture of a cannon, a long nine-pounder on its carriage. In the ribbon below it were the letters CBTC. Koots had seen the same design on the flag that flew above the go down at High Weald, and on the pediment above the front wall of the main building. He knew that the initials stood for Courtney Brothers Trading Company.
He called his troopers and showed them the fragment of wood. They passed it from hand to hand. They all knew the design. The entire population of the colony was less than three thousand souls, and within its boundaries everyone knew everything about everyone else. After Governor van de Witten himself, the Courtney brothers were the richest, most influential men in the colony. Their coat-of-arms was almost as well known as that of the VOC. The brothers emblazoned it on all their possessions, their buildings, ships, wagons. It was the seal they used on their documents and the brand on their horses and livestock. There was no longer any doubt of the identity of the wagon train they were following.
Koots looked over his band, and picked out Richter. He tossed him the broken spoke. "Corporal, do you know what that is you are holding?"
"Yes, Captain, sir. It's a wheel spoke."
"No, Corporal!" Koots told him. That is thousands of guilders in gold coin in your hand." He looked from the two white faces, Oudeman and Richter's, to the yellow and chocolate ones of Xhia and Goffel and the other Hottentots. "Do any of you still want to go home? Unlike that miserable bastard Le Riche, this time I will let you take your horse when
you leave. The reward money is not all that we will win. There are four wagons also, and a herd of domestic animals. Even Xhia will win more than t
he six head of cattle I promised him. The rest of you? Do any of you want to go home, yes or no
They grinned at each other, like a pack of wild hunting dogs with the smell of a wounded quarry in their nostrils, and shook their heads.
"Then there is the girl. Would any of you black bastards like to play with a white girl with golden hair?"
They burst into laughter at the suggestion, lewd and loud.
"I must apologize, but one of you will not have that pleasure." He looked them over thoughtfully. There was one Hottentot trooper whom he would be pleased to see the back of. His name was Minna, and he had a squint. This gave him a sly, villainous expression, which Koots had realized reflected accurately his true nature. Minna had sulked and whined ever since leaving the colony, and he was the only one of the troop who was exhibiting no enthusiasm for following the tracks of Jim Courtney's wagons.