'Then why do you not leave me?'
'You know I cannot leave you now, not as you are She left it unfinished, and they had not spoken of it again, though in her icy silences he had sensed the presence in her mind of the other man, and he knew that no matter how desperately unhappy a woman might be she will seldom leave a relationship until she has the prospect of something better to replace it. Louise had that prospect now, and they were both aware of it.
He wondered if he would let Louise go if she finally made the decision. There had been a time not long ago when he would have killed her first; but since they had reached Khami, everything had begun altering even more swiftly. They were rushing towards some climax, and Mungo had sensed that it would be explosive.
For Mungo had forgotten the magnetism that Robyn Ballantyne had once exerted upon him, but now he had been vividly reminded by the mature woman, Robyn Codrington. She was even more attractive to him now than she had been as a girl. He sensed that her strength and assurance would provide a secure port for a man tired to his guts and the marrow of his bones by the storms of life.
He knew that she was the trusted confidante of the Matabele king, and that if his fortune awaited him here in the north, as he had come to suspect, then her intercession with the Matabele would be invaluable.
There was something else, some other darker need within him. Mungo Sint John never forgave or forgot an injury. Clinton Codrington had commanded the Royal Naval cruiser which had seized Huron off the Cape of Good Hope, an action which seemed to Mungo to mark the beginning of his long decline, and herald his dogged misfortune. Codrington was vulnerable. Through this woman Mungo could be avenged, and the prospect was strangely compelling.
He sighed and shook his head, roused himself and used the stick to push himself erect. He found himself confronted by the two small figures. Mungo Sint John liked all women of whatever age, and though he had not seen his own children in many years, the youngest would be about the same age as these two.
They were pretty little things. Though he had seen them only fleetingly or at a distance, he had felt the stirring of his paternal instincts; and now their presence was a welcome relief from his dark thoughts, and from the loneliness of the past weeks.
'Good afternoon, ladies.' He smiled, and bowed as low as his leg would allow. His smile was irresistible, and some of the rigidity went out of the two small bodies, but their expressions remained pale and fixed; their eyes, huge with trepidation, were fastened upon the fly of his breeches, so that after a few seconds silence even Mungo Sint John felt disconcerted, and he shifted uncomfortably.
What service can I be to you?' he asked.
'We would like to see your tail, sir.'
'Ah!' Mungo knew never to show himself at a loss in front of a female, of no matter what age. 'You aren't posed to know about that,' he said. 'Are you, now?'
SUP They shook their heads in unison, but their eyes remained fixed with fascination below his waist. Vicky was right, there was definitely something there.
'Who told you about it?' Mungo sat down again, bringing his eyes to the level of theirs, and their disappointment was evident.
'Mama said you were the Devil, and we know the Devil has a tail.'
'I see.' Mungo nodded. With a huge effort, he fought back his laughter, and kept his expression serious, his tone conspiratorial.
'You are the only ones that know,'he told them. 'You won't tell anybody, will you?' Quite suddenly Mungo realized the value of having allies at Khami, two pairs of sharp bright eyes that saw everything and long ears that heard all.
'We won't tell anybody,' promised Vicky. 'If you show us.
'I can't do that.' And there was an immediate wail of disappointment.
'Why not?'
'Didn't your mother teach you that it's a sin to show anybody under your clothes?'
They glanced at each other, and then Vicky admitted reluctantly. 'Yes, we aren't even really allowed to look at ourselves there. Lizzie got whacked for it.'
'There.' Mungo nodded. 'But I'll tell you what I will do, I'll tell you the story of how I got my tail.'
'Story!' Vicky clapped her hands, and they spread their skirts and squatted cross-legged at Mungo's feet. If there was one thing better than a secret, it was a story, and Mungo Sint John had stories, wonderful scary, bloodthirsty stories, the kind that guaranteed nightmares.
Each afternoon when he reached the lookout under the leadwood tree, they were waiting for him, captives of his charisma, addicted to those amazing stories of ghosts and dragons, of evil witches and beautiful princesses who always had Vicky's hair or Lizzie's eyes when Mungo Sint John described them.
Then after each of Mungo's stories, he would tactfully initiate a lively discussion of the affairs of Khami Mission. On a typical day he would learn that Cathy had begun painting a portrait of Cousin Ralph from memory, and that it was the considered and unanimous verdict of the twins that Cathy was not only 'soft' but, much worse, 'sloppy' about Cousin Ralph.
He learned that King Ben had commanded the entire family to attend the Chawala ceremony at the new moon, and the twins were ghoulishly anticipating the slaughter of the sacrificial black bull. 'They do it with their bare hands,' Vicky gloated. 'And this year we are going to be allowed to watch, now that we are eleven.'
He was told in detail how Papa had demanded from Mama at the dinner table how much longer 'that infamous pirate' was to remain at Khami, and Mungo had to explain to the twins what 'infamous' meant 'famous, but only more so'.
Then on one such afternoon, Mungo learned from Lizzie that King Ben had once again 'khombisile' with his indunas. Gandang, one of the king's brothers, had told Juba, who was his wife, and Juba had told Mama.
'Khombisile?' Mungo asked dutifully. 'What does that mean?'
