The first two dozen troopers went clattering away towards Gubulawayo, while the sergeant and his six men wheeled in alongside the cart.
Vicky turned her head and looked directly into the young sergeant's eyes. She took a long slow breath that pushed her bosom out under the faded cotton of her blouse. The sergeant stared, and the flush of dark blood rose from the high stock of his tunic and suffused his cheeks.
Vicky wetted her pouting lips with the tip of a pink tongue, and slanted her eyes at him, and Sergeant Acutt seemed about to fall out of the saddle, for Vicky's gaze had struck him from a range of less than six feet.
'Victoria!' Robyn snapped sharply, without looking back over her shoulder.
Yes, Mama.' Hurriedly, Vicky slumped her shoulders forward to alter the cheeky thrust of her bosom to a more demure angle, and composed her expression into dutiful gravity.
TELEGRAM MESSAGE RECEIVED FORT VICTORIA 10TH NOVEMBER 1893 RELAYED BY HELIOGRAPH TO GUBULAWAYO:
FOR JAMESON STOP. HER MAJASTY'S GOVERNMENT DECLINES TO DECLARE MATABELE A CROWN COLONY OR PLACE IT UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF THE HIGH COMMISSIONER STOP. HER MAJESTY'S FOREIGN SECRETARY AGREES THAT THE CHARTER COMPANY IS TO PROVIDE THE MACHINERY OF GOVERNMENT FOR THE NEW TERRITORY STOP. BOTH MASHONALAND AND MATABELELAND NOW FALL WITHIN THE ADMINISTRATIVE AREA OF THE COMPANY STOP. COMPANY SHARES QUOTED AT 8 pounds LONDON CLOSE STOP. HEARTIEST CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU YOUR OFFICERS AND MEN FROM JOVE FOR JAMESON URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL DESTROY ALL COPIES STOP. WE MUST HAVE LOBENGULA STOP. NO RISK TOO GREAT NO PRICE TOO HIGH FROM JOVE 'Reverend. Codrington, I am sending out a considerable force to escort Lobengula in.' Jameson stood at the fly of his tent, looking out beyond the laager to the blackened ruins of the royal kraal. 'I have already sent this message after the king.' Jameson came back to his desk and read from his pad: 'Now, to stop this useless killing, you must at once come back to me at Gubulawayo. I guarantee that your life will be safe and that you will be kindly treated.'
'Has the king sent you a reply?' Clinton asked. He had declined a seat and stood stiffly in front of the camp table that served Jameson as a desk.
'Here.' The doctor handed Clinton a grubby, folded scrap of paper. Clinton scanned it swiftly: I have the honour to inform you that I have received your letter and have heard all what you have said, so I will come... This is written by a half-caste rogue, named Jacobs, who has joined up with Lobengula,' Clinton muttered, as he glanced through the rest of the wandering, misspelt and barely literate note. 'I know his handwriting.'
'Do you think the king means it?' Mungo Sint John asked. 'Do you think he means to come in?'
Clinton did not turn his head towards where Mungo toiled in a canvas camp chair across the tent.
'Doctor Jameson, I do not condone your actions or those of your infamous Chartered Company, but I came here at your bidding in order to do what little I can to redress the terrible wrongs that have been perpetrated on the Matabele people. However, I draw the line at having to speak or in any way communicate with this henchman of yours.'
Jameson frowned irritably. 'Reverend, I would like you to bear in mind that I have appointed General Sint John as Administrator and Chief Magistrate of Matabeleland Clinton cut in brusquely. 'You are, of course, aware that your Chief Magistrate was once a notorious slave-trader, buying and selling the black people over whom you now give him supreme powers?'
'Yes, thank you, Reverend, I am aware that General Sint John was once a legitimate trader, and I am also fully aware that while a serving officer of Her Majesty's navy, you led an attack on his ship, an action which led to your being courtmartialled, imprisoned and cashiered from the service. Now let us continue, Reverend. If you do not wish to talk directly to General Sint John, you may address me instead.'
In the camp chair Mungo Sint John crossed his beautifully polished riding boots and smiled lazily, but his eye was bright and sharp as a bared blade. 'Doctor Jameson, would you ask the good priest if he is of the opinion that Lobengula will give himself up?'
'Would you?' Clinton asked, still without a glance in Sint John's direction.
'No,' Mungo replied, and nodded his head significantly at Jameson.
'Reverend, General Sint John is taking out a flying column to bring Lobengula in. I want you to go with him, please,' Jameson said.
'Why me, Doctor?'
'You speak the language fluently.'
'So do many others, Zouga Ballantyne is one of them.
He is also a soldier.'
'Your brother-in-law has other important work to do 'Stealing the king's cattle,' Clinton cut in acidly.
It was already common knowledge that Zouga Ballantyne had been given the task of rounding up the vast Matabele herds and bringing them in to Gubulawayo for distribution.
However, Jameson might not have heard the remark, and he went on smoothly. 'Besides, Reverend, you and your wife have been close friends of Lobengula for many years, he trusts and likes you. But, since it was Major Ballantyne who delivered our ultimatum, Lobengula looks upon him as an enemy.'
'Not without reason,' Clinton murmured dryly. 'However, Doctor, I refuse to be your Judas goat.'
'Your presence with the column may help to avert another bloody conflict, with the inevitable result of hundreds if not thousands more Matabele slaughtered. I would think it your Christian duty to try to prevent that.'
Clinton hesitated, and Mungo murmured. 'Do point out, Doctor Jim, that after Lobengula surrenders, Reverend Codrington will be in a position to comfort and protect him, to ensure that the king is kindly treated and that no harm befalls him. I give him my word on that.'
'Very well,' Clinton capitulated sadly. 'On the understanding that I am to be the king's protector and advisor, I will go with your column.'
'They follow,' Gandang said softly. 'They still follow.'
