'They were night herons at Guntoor, however. I wonder if the species is to be found in these parts . . .'
A big black bird the size of a turkey, with a huge curved bill and vivid red face, scuttled out of the scrub a dozen yards ahead of them and made for the haven of a nearby thorn bush. Somervile's horse protested at the effrontery, resisting its rider's attempts to close with the bush for a better look, until shortened reins, and spurs, did the trick.
Hervey did not feel inclined to follow so eagerly; he had never been as keen an observer of the bird kingdom as Somervile (except birds of prey). They would surely see more if they stood off a little?
Johnson took the opportunity to come up alongside him. 'What were Mr Somervile sayin – liquid an' Africa? An' thee abaht dyin, sir? Ah couldn't catch it right.'
Hervey was long past protesting that being overheard was one thing, but having to repeat himself quite another. 'Latin, a saying by a general called Pliny: "There is always something new out of Africa." And I said that Sir Eyre should remember that Pliny's curiosity was the death of him, because, when the volcano erupted, he went to take a closer look, and was killed.'
'But there aren't no volcanoes 'ere, are there?'
'None that I can see. I meant in the general sense, that care killed the cat.'
'What?'
Hervey turned in the saddle, and thrust his hand out. ' "What, courage man! What though care killed a cat." '
Johnson looked at him strangely. 'Tha's chirrupy this mornin', sir.'
'Shakespeare, Johnson! "What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care." '
'What? Shakespeare talked like that?'
'Like what?'
'Like me.'
Hervey looked at him quizzically. 'Now that you mention it—'
But Somervile had closed with him again, and so Johnson fell respectfully back a length.
'Some sort of hornbill, as I never saw before. What was that you were saying?'
'About Guntoor?'
'No; Private Johnson.' He looked over his shoulder and nodded, to Johnson's satisfaction. 'Much Ado About Nothing, was it not?'
Hervey had to think for a moment. 'It was.'
' "Thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care." And thou dost indeed, Hervey. And I am depending on it.'
Hervey scowled back. 'It is for that dependability that His Majesty pays me, Sir Eyre.'
Somervile affected no notice. 'You know, Hervey, this infantry command you are to take up . . . I am not so certain it is second best. There may perhaps be the greater opportunity for distinction.'
Hervey looked at his old friend, curious. 'What makes you say that? What greater distinction might there be than to make history with the lieutenant-governor of the Cape Colony?'
The sun's increasing warmth had brought out the horseflies – bigger even than those in Bengal. Somervile's charger was beginning to object to their attentions, and Hervey's Molly the same. 'Before I address that, I propose we trot a while to see if we can shake these beggars off.'
Hervey signalled to the column, though he doubted they would leave the flies behind at a mere trot; and he did not consider it wise to allow a canter just yet in country he did not know (bare country that it was, as poor grassland as the great plain in Wiltshire).
'And so: distinction?' he prompted, raising his voice a little as they bumped along.
Somervile looked pleased. 'There's much to be done in Canada. Not an affair of arms, of course – or rather, I trust not – but of consolidation, with the Americans, the border, the native Indians and the like.'
They had spoken only a little of Canada since Emma had told Hervey the good news. Both were of the view that contemplating the next posting was the besetting sin of the too-ambitious man.
The prospect was appealing, though; it did not do to be forever taking up arms. 'And when is it, you say, that you go?'
'To be decided. Indeed, I ought to repeat that the appointment is yet to be approved, but if Huskisson manages to stay at the Colonies Office the position will be mine. I did not mention, too, that it is upon the most agreeable terms.'
Hervey checked his mare, for she was beginning to force the pace. 'I am excessively pleased. When I was last—'
But the sudden activity of the scouts half a mile ahead stayed his recollections. Hervey's hand was raised even before Somervile noticed.
The column fell back to a walk, and then halted. Out came the telescopes.
'What do they signal, Hervey?'
One scout was circling around a second, anti-clockwise, in a twenty-yard radius, his horse on a long rein.
The movement contained all the information Hervey needed. 'Zulu, on foot, between one and two dozen, stationary.'
'Scouts, perhaps?' suggested Somervile, trying to keep his horse still enough to train his telescope.
'I would think so,' said Hervey, searching the ground to left and right. 'We expected them, did we not?' They had been marching for two hours and more – long enough for Shaka's standing patrols to have learned of the column's approach.
All Serjeant Hardy's scouts were now observing the Zulu from the crest of the hill.
Hervey was keen to close with them to make his own reconnaissance. 'Hardy's orders are to halt on first contact. Shall we take a look?'
Somervile was already so active in the saddle that Hervey was certain what his answer would be. 'Why do we wait?'
'Proprieties,' replied Hervey – and a shade impatiently, turning in the saddle to look behind. 'The scouts are under Brereton's command.'
He strained to see what the officer in acting command of E Troop did.
But Brereton appeared to be doing nothing other than observe.
Hervey saw Serjeant-Major Collins come up from the rear, halting beside his troop leader, and the brief conference which followed.
Cornet Kemmis now left the column and cantered forward, saluting as he passed the head of the column.
Hervey sighed.
'Is something amiss?' enquired Somervile.
'If Brereton had wanted an officer's patrol instead of scouts then he ought to have arranged it so at the beginning. There's scarce point in sending a cornet back and forth like a fly shuttle.'
'Why do we not follow him?'
'Because that would be to disparage Brereton in front of the troop. I wonder what Collins was thinking to allow it.'
Somervile looked at him oddly. 'You expect a serjeant-major to trump a captain?'
'I expect Collins to know what is what!' He almost said 'Armstrong would have!'
They sat silent, if not exactly patient (or even still, for both horses were now fidgeting), until Kemmis returned, at a fast canter, to report to his troop leader. Hervey kept himself in check while the cornet relayed the scouts' intelligence to Brereton, just beyond his hearing.
And then, to his surprise, Kemmis and not Brereton rode back up the column towards them.
'Sir Eyre,' he began, while looking directly at Hervey (the custom of the service being to proceed as if addressing the most senior officer present), 'there is a party of Zulu half a mile or so ahead of the scouts, not many, a dozen perhaps, though the ground might conceal more. They stand in the open, observing, and make no move. Mr Isaacs says they are from Shaka's guards regiment.'
Hervey suppressed his irritation as best he could: he would speak with Brereton later, for the intelligence was nothing but that which Serjeant Hardy himself could have brought – or even the corporal. Kemmis had evidently not observed anything for himself, and knowing Kemmis, it was because there was nothing more to observe.
'And, Colonel . . .'
'Yes, Mr Kemmis, what is it? Do not try my patience.'
'No, Colonel. Mr Isaacs is unwell.'
'What do you mean, "unwell"? Do try to give a full account of things, Kemmis, else we waste no end of time.'
'No, Colonel. I mean, he's shivering, really quite violently, and he can't see clearly.'
Hervey frowne
d. 'How then can he tell which regiment the Zulu are from?'
'Serjeant Hardy described to him what he observed, Colonel.'
Hervey nodded approvingly.
'The same as King, d'you suppose?' suggested Somervile, wearily.
Hervey suspected not; he knew the symptoms right enough. 'We'd better have Fernyhough come with us.'
He told Kemmis to call the surgeon up. He almost told him to summon Brereton, too, but thought better of it.
Somervile raised his telescope once more. 'Hervey, do you suppose—'
But Hervey was reining round, intent on speaking to E Troop leader.
Brereton was by now riding forward, however.
'At last,' muttered Hervey.
Brereton saluted. 'Colonel, your orders?'
Hervey forced himself to speak as a colonel to a captain. 'To proceed with caution. I shall go forward to the scouts, to see for myself with Sir Eyre. And the surgeon.'
'Very well.'
'And, Brereton . . .' (he lowered his voice) 'do not have us converse through a cornet again.'
'No, Hervey. Thank you; I realized—'
'Proceed with caution, then. I'll get the scouts moving, and then wait on yonder crest for you.'
'Yes,' replied Brereton, quietly, saluting and turning about.
Hervey and his party cantered to the ridge where the scouts had halted, the lieutenant-governor so intent on his first sight of the famed Zulu that he would have given his gelding its head if Hervey had not insisted otherwise.
Serjeant Hardy saluted as they pulled up. 'Sir!'
'At ease, Sar'nt Hardy. The lieutenant-governor wishes to see what the Zulu look like. I fancy much as we saw them last summer?'
'Ay, sir, but about one in ten thousand as many,' he replied drily, his Cotswold vowels notably more pronounced than those of his fellow-countyman Collins.
They crested the rise together, where Isaacs was sitting hunched on the ground.
Hervey and the surgeon dismounted. 'Shaka's scouts, you say, Isaacs?'
'See for yourself, Colonel,' managed Isaacs, but weakly.
Somervile was already observing.
'I will,' replied Hervey. 'But first let the surgeon take a look at you.'
'There are but a very few,' Somervile called from the saddle, sounding disappointed.
'There might be hundreds more you can't see,' Hervey called back, hoping to silence his old friend for a few moments while the surgeon made his examination.
'There isn't any others, Colonel,' said Isaacs in almost a whisper. 'I know this country like the back of m'hand. You sees all there is, here. Not even a Zulu could 'ide 'imself. Not till we gets the other side of the Umhloti.'
'Tell me, how are they revealed as scouts?' asked Somervile, lowering his glass after several minutes' intense study. 'Either Serjeant Hardy's telescope is greatly more powerful than mine, or else something eludes me.'
'You observe what they carry?' Hervey tried his best not to sound exasperated.
'I do: the short spear, exactly as you described it.'
'Anything more?'
'No-o. Only a very small shield. Like a toy, indeed.'
'Exactly so.'
Isaacs insisted on answering for himself, if with the greatest difficulty. 'That's Shaka's way of saying 'e 'as no fear of us. The spear an' small shield belongs to the warrior; the war shield belongs to Shaka.'
'Should we speak with them?'
'No, Sir Eyre.'
The surgeon tried to stay him, but Isaacs insisted.
'They'll not let us within reach. Their job's to tell Shaka we're 'ere and when we comes to Dukuza, so's Shaka can look 'is best.'
Somervile nodded. 'Very well. There can be no objection in that. It shows that he does expect us.'
Hervey drew him aside, leaving the surgeon to his dosing. 'Not a sight to awe. But then, as a rule scouts are not meant even to be seen.'
Somervile raised a hand to acknowledge. In any case, he had wished only for a peaceful glimpse of a Zulu: his acquaintance with the Xhosa had been so fleeting and violent that he had not been able to form any impression of them from, as he put it, an 'ethnological' point of view. 'You know, Hervey, I am by no means certain that Shaka is waiting with equanimity at his kraal.'
Hervey shrugged. 'There could scarcely be certainty of anything in these parts.'
Somervile nodded. 'But beyond that: if his army has been fighting the Pondo, might he not believe that this has occasioned alarm in the Colony, and that we are harbingers of war?'
'He might. And with the bulk of his army in the north, he might be, shall we say, nervous?'
'Quite so. It is ironic, is it not, that our advantage would lie in Shaka's army being at Dukuza!'
Hervey frowned. 'Somervile, from what I have learned of the Zulu, Shaka will not have the entire army away either in the north or the south. We place ourselves as hostages to his good will either way. I must remind you that our safety rests ultimately in the speed of the horse.'
' "A horse is a vain thing for safety. Neither shall he deliver any by his great strength." '
'I have always considered that the psalmist must have had other things in mind. We must trust differently.'
Somervile nodded again, but gravely. 'You know, Hervey, there is a line in that play of yours – I mean the Malfi – when one of the courtiers, an old and wise lord – do you recall, Castruchio? – is discussing with the duchess's brother whether a prince might also be a soldier.'
'I recall it.'
'And Castruchio says that while it is fitting for a soldier to become a prince, it is not fitting that a prince descend to be a captain.'
' "That realm is never long in quiet, where the ruler is a soldier." '
'Well remembered. Do you not think it apt?'
'I thought it our design in coming here.'
'It is. But look at the condition of Isaacs: how might we take the measure of Shaka, prince and soldier, without him? Without Mr King it was unpropitious enough! I confess I shall count as much on your judgement, now, as I do on your sword.'
Hervey would have sighed as heavily as his old friend, had he not just been placed upon his quality so. 'These fevers – the malaria – two or three days, that's all. Isaacs will be well. And Fairbrother has enough Xhosa for our purposes. We know it to be not so very different from the Zulu.'
He hoped he sounded more certain than he was.
XIV
ERROR'S CHAIN Later
Marching across grassland was always a tedious affair. The dragoons stumbled when they were leading on foot, and there was nothing to mark their progress by, dismounted or mounted. Hervey lapsed into ruminatory silence.
They rested in the afternoon, not long, for it was by no means hot. But Fairbrother was able to rejoin them. His gelding had twisted a shoe just before they set off, and he had wanted the new one hot-fitted. Hervey asked him if he would ride with the scouts in place of Isaacs.
Towards four o'clock they saw the first of distant kraals, if modest sized: umuzi, single homesteads, with small herds of cattle tended by youths and boys. It was a pastoral landscape that once more put Hervey in mind of the Wiltshire plain.
He started singing, beneath his breath:
From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand,
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
He had known the author of those words, Bishop Heber of Calcutta. True, he had tended to avoid his society, but he did respect the evident sincerity in wishing to share the gospel with a country that, in the end, had been the death of him – martyr to a climate his constitution was not equipped to brave. But 'India's coral strand' was at least half welcoming to mission (India, after all, had heard the gospel before England), whereas 'Afric's sunny fountains' and 'palmy plains
', from all he had seen so far, appeared decidedly less so. He had certainly heard no one calling to be delivered from 'error's chain'.
His thoughts began to range again as they plodded on.
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