ACACIA
Secrets of an African Painting
By
Paul Bondsfield
Copyright November 2013 Paul Bondsfield
All rights reserved
Acacia on Facebook
ISBN: 9781310682834
For
Tris, Josh, Amelie and Eden
The Chapters
THE PAST - PROLOGUE – CHASE
CHAPTER ONE – THE FUNERAL
CHAPTER TWO – MBOKU’S JOURNEY STARTS
CHAPTER THREE – MUM TELLS A STORY
CHAPTER FOUR – PROPHECY
CHAPTER FIVE – FREDERICK’S ARRIVAL IN AFRICA
CHAPTER SIX – INHERITANCE
CHAPTER SEVEN – MBOKU GROWS
CHAPTER EIGHT – FREDERICK IN MATABELELAND
CHAPTER NINE – THE SEARCH BEGINS
CHAPTER TEN – MBOKU BECOMES A MAN
CHAPTER ELEVEN – FREDERICK’S DIARY
CHAPTER TWELVE – CONSPIRACY
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – THE SEARCH GOES ON
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – OLD LOVERS
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – SO TO AFRICA
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – CAPE TOWN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – COMING HOME
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - GATSHENI
CHAPTER NINETEEN - LEOPARD’S LEAP
CHAPTER TWENTY - THABAS INDUNAS
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - MORE SECRETS
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - DEFENDING THE STONES
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - TO THE LUPANE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - GATSHENI HURRIES TO THE LUPANE
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - FEVER
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - AMASSING THE WARRIORS
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - IN THE BUSH
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - ON THE TRAIL
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - CLOSER
CHAPTER THIRTY - THE SCENT OF BLOOD
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - CHANGE OF PLAN
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - GATSHENI TELLS HIS STORY
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - PROPOSAL
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR - THE PLAN IN ACTION
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE - THE KOPJE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX - FOLLOW THE CROSS
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - CONFRONTATION
EPILOGUE - THE PRESENT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THE PAST
PROLOGUE – CHASE
The man was near exhaustion as he staggered the final few feet towards the riverbank. The pain that coursed through his body was real enough, but to him it seemed to be a separate thing with a life of its own and with no true heart.
At the river’s edge, swift flowing, brown water surged before him, tempting him down into its chocolaty murk. The horrors he had witnessed had long since turned his mind in on itself and he didn’t stop to think about the consequence of throwing himself into the churning torrent; a primal instinct for escape was all that drove him on. As he hit the water, he was instantly swept away and simultaneously dragged under the surface so that the blood flowing from his body had only the briefest of moments to tinge the water a muddy pink before it was assimilated and diluted into nothingness.
The group of warriors, who had until this moment, pursued the man for many days, stopped at the water’s edge and watched his body disappear rapidly. They leant on their spears in silence, hardly out of breath despite the chase, until the tallest of them gestured with a quick movement of his head to turn and start the long run back home. The white man was dead; there was no need to go further. They had their vengeance and would soon find the hiding place and would return the treasure to its rightful owners. Within moments, the group had broken into a loping trot and the spot by the river was again deserted and silent, save for the rushing of the water.
It might have been more merciful if he had perished at that moment and those who knew him in later years would wonder if death might have been kinder. As it was, the spot at which he had flung himself into the rushing Limpopo was close to a long, slow bend where an ox-bow had been created; a loop of the river that had closed in on itself to create a separate section of still water.
His body was swept into the loop. The force of the flow pushed him up onto the mud on the opposite bank. In all, he had spent less than two minutes in the water and was still holding onto life as he lay in the mud, blood dripping from his wounds.
Next to him lay a small bag of oiled canvas and animal skin, bound tightly with leather thongs. Just before he lapsed into a long and tortured unconsciousness, his hand reached out and gripped it tightly to his chest.
THE PRESENT
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