bed and in the morning Sean, Father Alphonso and One-Eye started back towards the mountains.
Sean was impatient of any delay now; he wanted to get back to Katrina. Father Alphonso's English was on a par with Sean's Portuguese. This made conversation difficult, so Alphonso solved the problem by doing all the talking.
At first Sean listened but when he decided that the good father was trying to convert him he no longer bothered.
Alphonso did not seem put out, he just went on talking and clinging to the horse with both hands while his cassock flapped about his legs and his face sweated in the shade of his wide-brimmed hat. One-Eye followed them like an ancient stork.
It took them two days back to One-Eye's village and their entry was a triumphal procession. Father Alphonso's face lit up when he saw so many prospective converts.
Sean could see him mentally rubbing Ins hands together, and he decided to keep going before Alphonso forgot the main object of the exrpedition. He gave One-Eye a hunting-knife in payment for his services. One-Eye sat down under the big tree in the centre of the village, his own thin legs no longer able to support his weight and the knife clutched to his chest.
lubi, you've had enough of that... come on now! Sean had not dismounted and was restlessly waiting for Mubi to say his farewells to three of the village girls.
Mubi had displayed traditional Zulu taste, all three of them were big-breasted, big-bottomed and young. They were also crying. Come on, Mubi... what's the trouble? Nkosi, they believe that I have taken them for my wives. What made them think that? Nkosi, I do not know Mubi broke the armhold that the PlumPest and Youngest had around his neck, he snatched up his spears and fled. Sean and Alphonso galloped after him.
The villagers shouted farewells and Sean looked back and saw One-Eye still sitting at the base of the big tree.
The pace which Sean set was at last telling on Alphonso. His verbal spring-tides slackened and he showed a measure of reluctance to let his backside touch the saddle; he rode crouched forward on his horse's neck with his buttocks in the air. They crossed the mountains and went down the other side; the ground levelled out into the Sabi Valley and they rode into the forest. On the ninth day out from Nova Sofala they reached the Sabi river. It was late afternoon. Flocks of guinea-fowl were drinking in the river-bed, they went up in a blue haze of whirling wings, as Sean led his Party down the bank.
While the horses watered Sean spoke with Mubi. Do you recognize this part of the river? Yes, Nkosi, we are two hours march upstream from the wagons... we held too far to the north coming through the forest Sean looked at the sun, it was on the tree-tops. Half an hour's light left... and there's no moon tonight. We could wait until morning Mubi suggested hopefully. Sean ignored him and motioned to Alphonso to mount up. Alphonso was prepared to debate the advisability of moving on. Sean took a handful of his cassock and helped him into the saddle.
In the darkness the lantern burning in Katrina's wagon glowed through the canvas and guided them the last half mile into camp. Thief bayed them welcome and Mbejane ran out at the head of the other servants to take Sean's horse. His voice was loud with worry and relief. Nkosi, there is little time... it has begun Sean jumped off his horse and ran to the wagon. He tore open the canvas flap. Sean. She sat up. Her eyes were very green in the lantern light, but they were dark-ringed. Thank God, you've come.
Sean knelt beside her cot and held her. He said certain things to her and she clung to him and moved her lips across his face. The world receded and left one wagon standing in darkness, lit by a single Lamp and the love of two people.
Suddenly she stiffened in his arms and gasped. Sean held her, his face suddenly helpless and his big hands timid and uncertain on her shoulders.
What can I do, my fancy? How can I help you?
Her body relaxed slowly and she whispered, Did you find a priest? The priest! Sean had forgotten about him. Still holding onto her he turned his head and bellowed, Alphonso...
Alphonso. Hurry, man Father Alphonso'S face in the opening of the wagon Was pale with fatigue and grimy with dust. MarrY us, said Sean- Quickly, man, che-cha, chopchop... you savvy!™ Alphonso climbed into the wagon. The skirts of his cassock were torn and his knees were white and bony through the holes. He stood over them and opened his book. Ring? he asked in Portuguese.
I do, said Sean. No! No! Ring? I Alphonso held up a finger and made an encircling gesture. Ring?
I think he wants a wedding ring, whispered Katrina.
Oh, my God, said Sean. i'd forgotten about that- He looked round desperately. what can we use? Haven't you got one in your chest or something? Katrina shook her head, opened her lips to answer but closed them again as another pain took her. Sean held her while it lasted and when she relaxed he looked UP angrily at Alpbonso. Marry us... damn you. Don't you see there's no time for all the trimmings? Ring? said Alphonso again. He looked very unhappy. all right, I'll get you a ring Sean leapt out of the wagon and shouted at Mbejane. Bring my rifle, quickly-if Sean wanted to shoot the Portuguese that was his business and Mbejane's duty was to help him. He brought Sean the rifle. Sean found a gold sovereign in the pouch on his belt, he threw it on the ground and held the muzzle of the rifle on it. The bullet punched a ragged hole through it. He tossed the rifle back to Mbejane, picked up the small gold circle and scrambled back into the wagon.
Three times during the service the pains made Katrina gasp and each time Sean held her tight and AlPhonso increased the speed of his delivery. Sean put the punctured sovereign on Katrina's finger and kissed her.
Alphonso gabbled out the last line of Latin and Katrina said, Oh, Sean, it's coming. Get out Sean told Alphonso and made an expressive gesture towards the door, thankfully AlPhonso went.
It did not take long then, but to Sean it was an eternity like that time when they had taken Garrick's leg. Then in a slippery rush it was finished. Katrina lay very quiet and pale, while on the cot below her, still linked to her purple-blotched and bloody lay the child that they had made. It's dead, croaked Sean. He was sweating and he had backed away against the far wall of the wagon.
No Katrina struggled up fiercely. No, it's not...
Sean, you must help me.
She told him what to do and at last the child cried. It's a boy, said Katrina softly. Oh, Sean... it's a boy.
She was more beautiful than he had ever seen her before;
pale and tired and beautiful.
Sean's protests were in vain, Katrina left her bed the next morning and squeezed into one of her old dresses.
Sean hovered between her and the child on the cot.
I'm still so fat, she lamented. Fancy, please stay in bed another day or two. She pulled a face at him and went on struggling with the lacing of her bodice. Who's going to look after the baby? I will! said Sean earnestly. You can tell me what to do Arguing with Katrina was like trying to pick up quicksilver with your fingers, not worth the effort. She finished dressing and took up the child.
You can help me down the steps. She smiled at him.
Sean and Alphonso set a chair for her in the shade of one of the big shuma trees and the servants came to see the child. Katrina held him in her lap and Sean stood over them in uncertain possession. For Sean it seemed unreal yet... too much for his mind to digest in so short a time.
He grinned dazedly at the steady stream of comment from his servants and his arm was limp when Alphonso shook his hand for the twentieth time that morning. Hold your child...
Nkosi. Let us see you with him on your arm called mbejane and the other Zulus took up the cry. Sean's expression changed slowly to one of apprehension. Pick him up, Nkosi Katrina proffered the bundle and a hunted look came into Sean's eyes. Have no fear, Nkosi, he has no teeth, he cannot harm you, Hlubi encouraged him. Sean held his first-born awkwardly and assumed the hunchbacked posture of the new father. The Zulus cheered him and slowly Sean's face relaxed and his smile was a glow of pride. Mbejane, is he not beautiful? As beautiful as his father, Mbejane agreed.
Your words are a blade with two edges, laughed Sean.
He looked at the child closely. It wore a cap of dark hair, its nose was flat as a bulldog's, its eyes were milky-grey and its legs were long, skinny and red, How will you name him? asked Hlubi. Sean looked at Katrina.
Tell them, he said.
He shall be called Dirk, she said in Zulu. What is the meaning? asked Hlubi, and Sean answered him. It means a dagger... a sharp knife. There was immediate nodded approval from all the servants.
Hiubi produced his snuff-box and passed it among them and Mbejane took a pinch. That, he said, is a good name. Paternity, the subtle alchemist, transformed Sean's attitude to life within twelve hours. Never before had anything been so utterly dependent upon him, so completely vulnerable. That first evening in their wagon he watched katrina sitting cross-legged on her cot, stooping forward over it to give it her breast. Her hair hung in a soft wing across one cheek, her face was fuller, more matronly and the child in her lap fed with a red face and small wheezings. She looked up at him and smiled and the child tugged her breast with its tiny fists and hunting mouth.
Sean crossed to the cot, sat beside them and put his :arm around
