been able to arrange in time the necessary deadly counter-stroke – a direct assault by some powerful squadron already at sea.
The baron gave Renzi a curious look. ‘And now you will infinitely oblige me with your views on why we must inevitably fail.’
‘I vow I shall tell you everything I know, but find it necessary to learn further of your preparations, sir, it bearing so on the elements of success.’ What was he reading of the man? The stakes were higher now by far than his personal survival.
The baron beckoned graciously. ‘Then I shall be your guide and show you our little enterprise.’
Walking side by side they began their tour within the kraal. ‘A contemptible little fortification, you’ll agree, but then it’s for a temporary purpose and, besides, what have we to fear, no one knowing of our existence?’
It enclosed a wide area: to one side were numerous thatched huts in the native style and, set apart, others with a small stoep that resembled a Dutch country dwelling. ‘Our living quarters. And over there those of our closest warriors.’ There were many such men nearby, some standing on one leg with the other crooked against the knee while balancing with the assegai. ‘The main band numbers some ten thousand, four paramount chiefs and their Nguni followers. A formidable force to unleash, I’m persuaded.’
‘And there?’ Renzi indicated directly across to the other side. It was a long, low thatched structure away from other huts covered by canvas and well guarded.
‘Ah. That is where our muskets and powder are stored. Dear me, you have no conception of the pother and vexation it has been to mount this uprising. The Xhosa are not to be trusted in the article of muskets – if they got hold of them before time they’d turn them on their brothers to seek some petty vengeance or other. No, the only way for me has been to send first for the weapons, useless, of course, without powder. This was to attract the avaricious attention of the warriors to flock to me and, as you can see, has succeeded handsomely.
‘Then the recent shipment of powder. To prevent its looting and ransacking, I have made my selection of those who will bear my arms and they have every interest in guarding the store. Tomorrow is the final move, which will set match to fuse.’
‘What is that, pray?’
‘I had hoped to have the services of fifty soldiers of France to aid us but their vessel seems to have been delayed. I can wait no longer – the warriors are hot with blood-lust to begin and I risk my standing with them should I attempt to hold them back. Therefore I’ve given orders that the arms will be issued. Tomorrow.’
Renzi felt numb at the sheer impossibility of stopping the tidal wave of savagery about to engulf the frontier. And shortly he would be asked to reveal the fatal flaw.
‘Out of the gates here, we have but a short walk to the landing jetty.’
A rickety but strong pier jutted out from the riverbank. Two cargo-loading boats lay alongside and Renzi estimated that there was at least four feet of water available. Was the river tidal, he wondered.
‘It is made from what the local people so quaintly term stinkwood. Now, is there anything else you wish to assess before you share with me your objections?’
Renzi looked about him. There were above a hundred warriors in sight and Therese and her men were paces away: he would be chopped down before he had gone yards if he tried to run.
He drew himself up and said quietly, ‘Sir, I promised to tell you everything I know. And I have to say to you now, that I know . . . nothing. Nothing at all. There is no reason I can think of that might halt your scheme.’
‘I don’t understand you, sir.’
‘The claim was a subterfuge only, practised on your daughter to enable me to gain the satisfaction of learning who it was that is about to set the frontier ablaze. That has now been achieved.’
The baron stared at him, then laughed. ‘Upon my word, sir, that is rich! You’re a man of courage and spirit such as few I know.’ He chuckled again.
‘Father!’ Therese snarled.
‘Ah, yes.’ A shadow passed across his features. ‘It grieves me more than I can say that such a noble soul shall pay for his knowledge with his life, but with what you know, sir, you will see that it is beyond my power to preserve it. Let me assure you, however, that when the time comes it shall be done swiftly and with mercy shown.’
Renzi went cold.
‘Yet the very least we can do is offer you the pleasures of our table this night. It does pain me to observe, however, that on the morrow I expect the ship to arrive with the soldiers – no doubt it has been lately delayed by the poor weather we have been having. Or in its absence we must shift for ourselves. We shall then be very busy, as you will understand, and therefore, most regrettably, I beg you will think of this night as your last.’
True to his word, the evening passed in a blaze of colour and feasting, lines of Xhosa women dancing in the firelight, the glitter of their bangles vying with flashing eyes amid the hypnotic thunder of drums. Gourds of drink followed the devouring of roasted ox and
Renzi saw it only through a haze of distraction. There was no conceivable escape: two of Therese’s men stayed constantly within a few feet of him and the Xhosa knew full well his status – should he make a break for it, they would instantly skewer him with assegais for the kudos of bringing him down. At least the baron had promised a merciful end.
In the early hours the festivities waned and the participants streamed back to their encampment. Visibly embarrassed, the baron bade him goodnight. Renzi was escorted to a hut and guards posted. He was left alone on a rush bed with his thoughts for the time that remained to him.
In the last hour of the night a small line of grave-featured witnesses called for him: the baron, Therese, and the inevitable heavy-set brutes, each carrying a flaming torch that illuminated the scene pitilessly.
‘It is time, sir. Are you ready?’ The baron carried a small, ornately chased box, which Renzi recognised. So it was to be a pistol.
