again while Mark poured the brandy and brought the glass to Dirk. You trust him? Dirk asked his father again, indicating Mark with his head as he accepted the glass. Get on with it, man, snapped Sean irritably, not bothering to answer the question. Dirk saluted his father with the cut-glass tumber and smiled knowingly. You make the laws, Father, you and your friends in the Cabinet and in the Provincial Assembly, and you can change them. That's your end of the bargain. Sean had drawn a swelling chestful of cigar smoke as Dirk spoke, and now he let it trickle out so that his head was wreathed in drifting blue smoke as he replied. Let's get this clear. You put up the money and I force through Parliament legislation repealing the proclamation of these lands we need between Nkomo and the Bubezi Rivers? And the Bubezi Valley, Dirk cut in. And the Bubezi Valley. Then I arrange that some front company gets control of that land, even if it's only on a thousand year ground rental? Dirk nodded. Yes, that's it. What about the cost of the dam and the new railroad to the dam, have you got that type of capital? Mark could hardly believe what he was hearing, that Sean Courtney was haggling over the assets of the nation, treasures that had been entrusted to him as a high representative of the people. He wanted to shout out, to lash out at them as they schemed. The deep affection he had felt moments before turned slowly to a deep sense of outrage and betrayal. Nobody has that type of capital, Dirk told him. I've had my people work out a rough estimate, and there will be little change left out of four million pounds. No individual has that sort of money. So? Sean asked, the wreaths of cigar smoke drifted away from his head and it seemed to Mark that he had aged suddenly. His face was grey and haggard, the deep-set eyes turned by a trick of the light into the dark empty eyesockets of a skull. The Government will build them for us, and Dirk chuckled richly, as he resumed his pacing. Or rather, they'll build dam and railway for the nation. To open up valuable natural resources. Dirk chuckled again. And imagine the prestige of the man that shepherds these measures through Parliament, the man who brings progress and civilization into the wilderness. He picked up the brandy glass and tossed off half the contents. It would all be named after him, the Sean Courtney Dam perhaps? It sounds impressive. A fitting monument, Father. Dirk lifted the glass to his father. But what of the tribal lands, Dirk? Sean used his son's name for the first time, Mark noticed, and glanced sharply at him.
We'll move the blacks out, Dirk told him casually. Find a place for them in the hills. And the game reserves? Good God, are we going to let a few wild animals stand in the way of a hundred million pounds? He shook the handsome head of curls in mock dismay. Before we flood the valley, you can take a hunting safari there. You always did enjoy the hunt, didn't you? I remember you telling me about the big elephant hunts in the old days. Yes, Sean nodded heavily. I killed a lot of elephants. o, Father, we are agreed then? Dirk stopped once more before Sean, and there was for the first time an anxious air, a small frown of worry puckering his bold high forehead. Do we work together? Sean was silent for seconds longer, staring at the blotter on his desk-top, then he raised his head slowly and he looked sick and very old. What you have told me, the sheer size of it all has taken me completely by surprise. He spoke carefully, measuring each word. It's big and it's going to take guts, Dirk agreed. But you have never been frightened before, Father. You told me once, if you want something, go out and get it for one thing is sure as all hell, nobody is going to bring it to you. 'I am older now, Dirk, and a man grows tired, loses the strength of his youth. You're as strong as a bull. I want time to think about it. How long? Dirk demanded. Until, Sean faltered, and thought a moment, until after the next parliamentary sessions. I will need to speak to people, examine the feasibility of the whole idea. It's too long, Dirk scowled, and suddenly the face was no more beautiful, the eyes changed, coming together into a mean ferrety look. It's the time I needAll right, I Dirk agreed, and thrust the scowl aside, smiling down at the massive seated figure. He began the gesture of putting out his right hand, but Sean did not look up and instead he thrust the hand back into his overcoat pocket. I am neglecting my guests, said Sean softly. You must excuse me now. Mark will see you out. You will let me know? Dirk demanded. Yes, said Sean heavily, still not looking up. I will let you know. Mark led Dirk Courtney down to the front doors, and he felt feverish with anger and hatred for him. They walked in silence, side by side, and Mark fought the wild, dark and violent impulses that kept sweeping over him. He hated him for having tarnished the man he had respected and worshipped, for having smeared him with his own filth.
He hated him for the old man and for Andersland, and for the dreadful but unknown deeds he had ordered, and he hated him for what he was about to do to that beloved land beyond Chaka's Gate.
At the front doors, Dirk Courtney took his hat from the table and adjusted it over his eyes as he studied Mark carefully. I am a good friend to have, he said softly. My father trusts you, and I am sure he confides in you. You would find me grateful and generous, and I am sure that, since you overheard our conversation, you will know what small items of information might interest me. Mark stared at him. His lips felt numb and cold, and his whole body trembled with the effort it took to control himself. He did not trust his own voice to speak.
Dirk Courtney turned away abruptly, not bothering with his reply and he strode lightly down the front steps into the night.
Mark stared after him long after he disappeared. There was the crackling snarl of a powerful engine, the crunch of gravel under spinning wheels, and the twin beams of headlights swept the garden, and were gone.
Mark's feet kept pace with the furious rush of his anger, and he was almost running when he reached the General's study. Without knocking, he pushed open the door.
Words threatened to explode out of him, bitter condemnation, accusation and rejection, and he looked to the General's desk, but it was empty.
He was going to warn the General that he would use any means to expose the foul bargain that had been proposed that evenin& he was going to voice his disillusion, his horror that Sean Courtney had even listened to it, let alone given it serious thought and the half-promise of his support.
The General stood at the window, his back to the room and the wide square shoulders slumped. He seemed to have shrunk in size. General, Mark's voice was harsh, strident with his anger and determination, I am leaving now, and I won't be coming back. But before I go, I want to tell you that I will fight you and your son -Sean Courtney turned into the room, his shoulders still drooped and his head held at a listening angle, like that of a blind man, and Mark's voice trailed away, his fury evaporating. Mark? Sean Courtney asked, as though he had forgotten his existence, and Mark stared at him, not believing what he was seeing, for Sean Courtney was weeping.
Bright tears had swamped and blinded his eyes and streamed down the lined and sun-scared cheeks, clinging in fat bright droplets to the coarse curls of his beard. It was one of the most distressing sights Mark had ever witnessed, so harrowing that he wanted to turn away from in it but could not. Get me a drink, son. Sean Courtney crossed heavily towards his desk and one of his tears fell to the starched snowy front of his dress shirt, leaving a wet mark on the material.
Mark turned away, and made a show of selecting a glass and pouring whisky from the heavy decanter. He drew the simple act out and when he turned back Sean Courtney was at his desk.
He held a crumpled white handkerchief in his hand that had damp patches on it, but although his cheeks were dry now, the rims of his eyelids were pink and inflamed and the marvelous sparkling blue clarity of his eyes was dulled with swimming liquid. Thank you, Mark, he said as he set the glass on the desk in front of him. Sean did not touch the glass but stared at it, and when he spoke his voice was low and husky. I brought him into the world with my own hands, there was no doctor, I caught him in my own hands still wet and warm and slippery, and I was proud. I carried him on my shoulder, and taught him to talk and ride and shoot. There are no words to explain what a man feels for his first-born son, Sean sighed, a broken gusty sound. I mourned for him once before, I mourned him as though he was dead, and that was many years ago. He drank a little of the whisky and then went on softly, so softly that Mark could hardly hear the words. Now he comes back and forces me to mourn him again, all over again. I am sorry, General. I thought, I believed that you were going to, bargain with him. That thought dishonours me. Sean did not raise his voice nor his eyes. Leave me now, please Mark. We'll talk about this again at some other
