by Jane Godman
“Tell me what we just saw is not typical, Annie.”
“I can’t,” I sighed, tilting my head back to look up at him. “This country of mine is beautiful, Nicca, but you must have seen already that it does not treat all of its people fairly. When the British established the Union of South Africa, black Africans were kept off the electoral rolls. Only white people can vote, hold skilled jobs and own land. These laws ensure that black people have to seek jobs from white employers, that the jobs they take are the lowest paid and that they cannot vote to change these awful laws. I love my country, but I am not proud to be a white South African.”
“Yet you are one of the privileged.”
“It isn’t fair,” I said. “Black people are in the majority in this country, but this is all about land and money. White people hold the political power, and there is talk that more laws will be passed to segregate the races and oppress black people even further in the future. I will always fight against unfairness, even if I benefit from it.”
“Annie, I told you once that you are unique, and you said that wasn’t the case,” Nicca said. “I think you were wrong.”
I put my mouth close to his ear, so that my lips just brushed his flesh. “Are you saying that because you want to get into my broekies later this evening?” I leaned back because I loved to watch his pupils dilate as they always did when he was aroused. His eyes appeared so black that there was only a thin rim of blue remaining. “Because, just so you know, I wasn’t planning on wearing any.”
He groaned and lowered his head into his hands. Pleased with this reaction, I allowed myself a little smile and sat back in my seat.
We had been at Sonskyn for six weeks and life settled into an easy routine. Nicca eventually stopped screeching like a girl about snakes in his bedroom and scorpions in the shower. Finty had progressed from plucking chickens to taking a rifle out into the veldt to hunt bok, accompanied by a smitten Jabu. It was almost possible to believe that life would continue in this way without interruption. Almost. But the remnants of the darkness were still within me, and in snickering, insidious voices, they whispered to me that this peaceful hiatus would not last.
The stables at Sonskyn were my domain. We had about twenty horses of various breeds and backgrounds. I kept them in as natural an environment as possible. They lived in the fields surrounding the farmhouse and had a strong herd structure. I had introduced a successful breeding program a few years earlier, which resulted in about twenty foals. Sonskyn horses were beginning to be known in the area. Horses that were born and bred on the kraal managed the steep terrain, rocky ground, dry winters and local diseases much better than those introduced to the area. I took great delight in showing Nicca my strong, sure-footed trail horses. They came to greet me like a group of children in the playground vying for attention, pushing each other aside and nudging me playfully.
“Saddle up and I’ll take you somewhere we can swim,” I said.
Nicca selected a strong, broad-shouldered stallion. Conscious of the danger facing us, he slung a rifle across the saddle. I placed a pistol in my saddlebag and double-checked that my dagger was in the pocket of my culottes.
“You can’t swim in still water here because of a parasite called bilharzia,” I explained when, after about an hour’s ride, we reached our destination. The waterfall was small in comparison to some in the mountain range, but the plunge pool was ideal for swimming. “It’s fine to bathe in moving water.” Before I’d even finished speaking, Nicca was stripping off his clothing. “What happened to that starched-up Englishman I met a few months ago?” I asked, eying his splendid, naked physique in some surprise as he dived into the water.
“You happened to me, Annie,” he said, surfacing and brushing the water out of his eyes. “Now get those clothes off and come and join me.”
“Ja, meneer,” I said with mock docility. I removed my clothes slowly, taking time to fold them neatly, enjoying the sensation of Nicca’s impatient eyes upon me.
The water was deep and cold, and the spreading mist from the roaring falls chilled my flesh further as I entered the rocky pool. Rainbows of sparkling colour and light met where the sun kissed the spray and ghostly forms danced in and out of the spreading droplets. We swam lazily in the pool and under the spray. Then we lost interest in swimming and turned our attention to kissing and touching and teasing each other to a point just short of frenzy.
When we finally left the water and dressed again, we spread a blanket on the riverbank, and lay wrapped in each other’s arms. The sun was making her journey into late afternoon when I raised myself on one elbow and studied Nicca’s face in the golden light. When was it that the planes and angles of his features had become as dear to me as my own? I felt my heart flood with a warmth so strong and comforting that it soaked into the pores of my very soul. Although he appeared to be dozing, a slight smile played about his lips, telling me that he was aware of my scrutiny.
“Nicca…”
“Hmm?” His voice was sleepy.
I wasn’t sure what I had been about to say, but, before I could speak, my body jerked suddenly and violently. I sat bolt upright. The pain in my head was sharp and unmistakable. In my mind, rain clouds gathered on an ominous horizon, and a huge dark bird flew overhead in eerie silence. Hot air tightened my lungs, ready to ignite my flesh like a lightning strike tearing open the night sky. The unseen shape of my worst nightmare loomed. Close enough to touch.
Nicca, his face registering his concern, sat up and drew me into his arms. The storm inside me began to recede. I concentrated on the rhythm of Nicca’s heart beneath my cheek and his breath against my temple. As always, his touch soothed me as nothing else could.
“Uther is here,” I said, and Nicca held me tighter as my limbs began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Here in Africa?”
“No, I mean he is here,” I scanned the ridges above us. “He is so close I can feel him. I think he can see us.”
When Africa and I lost our temper, we both did it in spectacular fashion. But I had to concede that she had the advantage when it came to colour and drama. The early morning sky was the shade of raspberry sorbet splashed with vivid mango juice. By noon it was black as midnight and the wind had begun to wail in wild frustration, bending the trees in its path. Thunder drummed a wild tattoo and lightning whipped across angry skies. Drenching, soul-drowning rain poured from the dark grey canopy. As her scorching wrath boiled to a crescendo, my beloved homeland shrieked hateful words, flashed her sharp teeth and wept black and silver tears. Finally, spent, she breathed a heavy sigh and blew clouds across her silent skies as day slid into night.
“My God, Annie, that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” There was a note of awe and worship in Nicca’s voice. I turned to him with pleasure. Africa was an acquired taste, but once she was in your blood, she never let you go.
“You might make a boer of that big fella of yours yet, Annie,” Ouma remarked, before I could say anything. “If you can ever get him to stop running away from spiders.”
The next morning, I enlisted Finty’s help to tend the flowerbeds at the front of the farmhouse. The previous day’s deluge had washed away the thin layer of earth and flattened the bright geraniums that Ouma so carefully nurtured. Kneeling on the hard ground, we carefully replaced each plant, anchoring the roots and patting fresh soil around them. It was a long job, but I had plenty to occupy my mind and Finty seemed similarly distracted. Ouma’s words echoed inside my head: I don’t want any more little bastards running around the place. Nicca and I had never talked about it, but we had been tempting fate. If truth be told, we had been laughing arrogantly in her face. Was he trying to trap me, I wondered briefly, hoping to tie me to him for life through his child? I shook my head impatiently, immediately dismissing the thought. That was unfair. Nicca was too honest for that sort of subterfuge, and, after all, it took two. I had been as reckless as him.
Pausing in my task, I ran a hand down over the flat plain o
f my belly. Uther was close. The invisible bond that drew us together was tightening. I didn’t know what he was planning, but I knew it would be devastating. I felt dark wings beat inside my head. I saw a malignant shape soaring over oceans, spreading across continents, cresting mountains even dragons would fear to climb. An unchained darkness waited to claim me, and the tears my Africa had just wept would be as nothing to the next storm I would have to face. Deal with that first, Annie. Everything else will have to wait.
“Oh!” Finty’s girlish wail drew my attention back to the real world. When I looked down, every single one of the geraniums had wilted and died.
We cantered and then galloped across the dusky valley, following a trail that meandered alongside a bubbling stream. It took us past a cave and a steep cliff face that rock rabbits had made into a home. Climbing a ridge, we paused to view the breathtaking panorama of sharpened knife-edges that went on forever. Dipping down into another valley, we forded the river and dismounted, tying the horses to a tree and sitting on the grass in the shade.
“They are like high-class prostitutes.” I handed the binoculars to Nicca. “Absolutely gorgeous, but they spend most of their time in bed.”
It was difficult to see them. Their yellow was the same colour as the dried summer grass. It was the faded, dirty gold of ancient French tapestries or worn upholstered velvet. They lay in a shady dip, cooling their heated pelts, away from the sweltering oven of the noonday heat. Now and then there was a twitch of an ear or flick of a tail. Flies, drawn by the smell of rancid meat from their panting, dripping mouths, clustered around their heads in swarms. Across the distance, it was almost possible to convince yourself you heard the sound of rusty lungs exhaling on the silent, orange noontide.
Just once, the male looked up. His terrible murder-bright eyes, no longer sleepy, gazed directly at us. They were Uther’s eyes, but I pushed the thought aside quickly. I didn’t want the whole pride to drop dead in front of me just because I had allowed thoughts of Jago darkness to intrude. I consoled myself with the thought that I had actually been touching the snake and the geraniums when they died. I had no intention of getting that close to this deadly pride. Nevertheless, I resolutely turned my mind back to the lion. In that instant, it was possible to imagine the prickle of his fur beneath my hand and scent of the kill on his breath. Dismissing our presence with a yawn, he lowered his head again. Our audience with majesty was at an end.
It was the first time we had left the Sonskyn Valley since I first sensed Uther’s presence, but the pull of the lions had been too great. We mounted our horses again and made our way back across the river toward the trail that would lead us back up a rocky incline. That was when it happened. I turned my head to say something to Nicca, and as the first words left my lips, he suddenly jerked upright. Bright blood blossomed in awful contrast to the whiteness of his shirt before he toppled from his horse. With a cry of alarm, I hurled myself from the saddle and knelt beside him. He lay still in the peppery dust. His eyes were closed.
“This is a fine bloody time to find out exactly how much I do love you,” I muttered furiously, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt with shaky fingers.
His hand came up and grasped my wrist, although his eyes remained closed. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘It’s a fine time—’”
“Just the highlights, please, Annie. I’m bleeding to death here.”
“I said I love you, you big domkop.”
He opened one eye and studied my face thoughtfully. “That’ll do,” he said, pulling me down on top of him into an embrace so tight it hurt. That was when the second shot rang out.
Chapter Thirteen
When I opened my eyes, I was in a small, cramped room that was vaguely familiar. Through the haze of pain that enveloped me I could not place exactly where it was. My left shoulder was on fire and, when I tried to sit up, a thunderbolt of pure agony shot through me, and I collapsed back onto the narrow bed where I was lying.
“Don’t try to move, my sweet. You must take care of yourself.” Uther’s voice came from somewhere behind me, and I immediately forgot about the pain in the flare of fear that ricocheted around my mind. “I tried to avoid hitting you when I fired, but if you will go around hugging other men, you must expect a little punishment. It’s a flesh wound. The bullet sliced a chunk of meat out of your shoulder, but there’s no serious damage. I have cleaned and dressed it.” He moved closer so that I could see him. His smile was tender as he leaned over me and smoothed a lock of hair back from my face. “What a dance you have led me, Annie.”
“Where is Nicca?” My voice sounded like chunks of gravel were caught in my throat. Even though I feared the question would inflame his anger, I had to ask it.
“Dead.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the mountains. “It was probably just as well you lost consciousness when I hit you with that second bullet, my sweet. It really wasn’t a pretty sight. That shot that got you also hit him right in the head. His brains were spread all over the—what do you call it in that outlandish language of yours?—bushveldt?” Numb with shock at what he had just said, I lay still and silent, trying to avoid the images that invaded my thoughts.
“Well?” Uther was waiting for an answer to his question. Mechanically, I nodded, my lips too numb to utter the questions my mind was forming. “I expect the vultures will get to him before too long. Now all we need to do is finish off that brother of yours, and everything will be back on track.”
The rough wood panels on the walls stirred a memory, but it was the smell that finally told me where I was. Mingling with sour stench of sweat, beer and unwashed clothes were the combined scents of vinegar, pepper, coriander and cloves. All of the ingredients that were used to cure raw meat and turn it into biltong. I was in Piet Smit’s shack.
“Where is Meneer Smit?” I asked.
“What is this new obsession you have with the whereabouts of other men, my darling?” Uther gave a soft, indulgent chuckle. “For a price, Mr Smit offered to make himself scarce so that you and I could have this reunion. I explained we would need a little time alone. You are not his favourite person, you know. What did he call you? A heks? A witch, I interpreted that to mean. I don’t know what you can have been doing to enrage him, but while I have been staying here, he has been most vocal about you and ‘the big bugger.’ From that description, I believe he is referring to my dear brother. But it seems Nicca had been behaving in something less than a brotherly manner of late. It shows a disappointing lack of loyalty to his older sibling and the head of the family.” His smile was more frightening than his frown.
“You are not the head of the family. Rudi is.”
“An unfortunate quirk of fate, but one that is easily rectified.”
I thought of Nicca’s words. “Too many people know the truth, Uther. You can’t kill us all.”
His eyes gleamed bright gold. “Don’t be so sure. You are not the only Jago who likes a challenge, my sweet.”
“May I have some water?” I braced myself as he moved away and, biting down hard on my lip, eased myself into a more upright position.
He returned and held a cup to my lips. I looked at his face as I drank. My mind had made him into a fairy tale ogre, but I was wrong. He was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen. There was a lingering part of me that wanted to throw myself into his arms and send the rest of the world to hell. I had pictured this meeting so many times since I left Tenebris, and my biggest fear had been my own reaction. But the ties that bound me to him had been weakened beyond repair. Because I love Nicca. That thought brought with it the tiniest glimmer of hope. Could I allow myself to believe that Uther was lying and that Nicca was not dead? Dare I? Even though Uther’s hand was on the back of my neck as he helped me to drink, still I sensed a distance—a separateness—between us. His touch did not send that electrifying thunderbolt of lust thrumming through me that it had always done in the past, and that knowledge meant I also had to bel
ieve that Nicca must be alive. I clung to that hope as a drowning man clings to a raft.
I sat up a little straighter. “How did you find us?” I kept my tone deliberately conversational.
“Cost me a bloody fortune in private detective fees and two weeks spent staring at the four walls of a hotel room in Cape Town. He was able to trace you through the passenger list on the Arundel Castle. I’d already been stuck in Southampton for a week because of bad weather. Since the Titanic, these nautical types are overcautious, in my opinion.”
“So you did wait in London for Wilson’s inquest?”
His eyes narrowed. “I suppose Nicca shared that little snippet with you?”
Steeling myself, I rose to my feet. The room spun slightly, then righted itself. My shoulder throbbed, but I knew I would be able to walk, perhaps even run. If I got the chance. “I think he felt I should know I was marrying a murderer.”
“Yes, my brother seemed to have taken a quite extraordinary interest in your…er…welfare.” His lips twisted into something that was a parody of that deliciously wicked smile I had loved so much. He stepped toward me. “But why are we bothering with him when we have the rest of our lives to plan?”
“It’s not that simple, Uther,” I said quietly. Even though I feared the consequences, I had to destroy any hope he might have that I still belonged to him. Or that this might end happily for us. “I’m carrying Nicca’s baby.”
Almost absentmindedly, the man I once thought I would love until the end of my life dealt me a back-handed blow that sent me staggering halfway across the room. I hit the wall and slumped into a sitting position. Blood trickled from my bottom lip, which seemed instantly to have swelled to twice its normal size.
Uther laughed. “We can sort that little problem out later, before we leave for England. It’s only been a matter of weeks, so there’s time yet to get rid of it. Unless you were fucking him while we were at Tenebris?” He came closer. “But I don’t think so. I don’t think your blatant desire for me was an act. If it was, it was a bloody good one! And your belly is still flat.” He studied me through half-closed eyes. “Of course, I’m not happy about you whoring around behind my back. And with Nicca of all people. Really, Annie, I expected you to have more taste than to choose a dyed-in-the-wool puritan. You must have moved fast to get him into bed. There’ll have to be a penance, my sweet. But once we are home again—well, we can be happy once more. Just you and me and, in time, our children. The Jago dynasty will evolve as it was foretold.”
