go, Father?'
'Of course, my son, and all my blessings with you,' Dorian replied.
Mansur sprang to his feet. 'I am with you, coz!' They ran to the door.
Jim was already shouting for Bakkat: 'Saddle up Drumfire. We ride at once.'
In addition to being at a safe distance from the coast, the gorge was a lovely place. Sarah had chosen it as the campsite for that reason. The river came down out of the mountains in a series of cascades and waterfalls. The pools below each of these were clear and placid, filled with yellow fish. Tall trees shaded the site of their laager. Flowering fruits in the leafy canopy attracted birds and vervet monkeys.
Although Tom had prevailed on Sarah to cache most of the furniture and her other possessions within a few miles of the fort, in the same hiding-place as some off the ivory, Sarah had insisted on loading all her real treasures on to the wagons. She did not look upon the chests of gold bars that Tom had foisted on her as being of especial importance. When they reached the campsite she had not even bothered to have them unloaded. When Louisa and Verity politely queried the wisdom of this, Sarah laughed. 'Wasted effort. We will just have to load them all up again when it's time to go home.'
On the other hand, she spared no effort in providing the camp with all the comforts of home. Chief of these was a fine mud-walled kitchen and refectory. The roof was a masterpiece of the thatcher's art. The floor was plastered with clay and cow dung. Sarah's harpsichord had pride of place in the centre of the room and every evening they gathered around it to sing while Sarah played.
During the days they picnicked beside the pool, and watched George swim like a naked little fish, and applauded as he jumped in from the high bank with the loudest splash he could make. They painted and sewed. Louisa gave George riding lessons, perched up on Trueheart's back like a flea. Verity worked on her translations of the Qur'an and the Ramayana. Sarah took George with her to collect wild flowers. Back in the laager she sketched the plants and wrote descriptive notes of them to add to her collection. Verity had brought a box of her favourite books from her cabin in the Arcturus, and she read aloud to the other women.
They marvelled over James Thomson's Seasons and giggled together like schoolgirls over Rage on Rage.
Some mornings Louisa left George in the care of Sarah and Intepe, the lily, while she and Verity went out riding. This was an arrangement that suited George very well. Grandmama Sarah was an unending source of biscuits, toffee and other delights. She was also a captivating raconteur. Gentle Intepe was in George's thrall and obeyed his lordly instructions without quibble. She was now Zama's wife and had already borne him one lusty son. The baby was still at her breast, but her older boy was George's liege man. Zama had made for each of them a miniature bow, and a sharpened stick to use as a spear. They spent a great amount of time hunting around the perimeter of the camp. To date they had only achieved one kill: a fieldmouse had made the mistake of running under George's feet and, in an effort to avoid it, he had stood on its head. They cooked the tiny carcass in the flames of a large fire they built expressly for the purpose, and devoured the scorched, blackened flesh with relish.
These seemed idyllic days, but they were not. A dark shadow hung over the camp. Even in the midst of laughter the women would fall suddenly silent and look back along the wagon track that led down to the coast. When they mentioned the names of the men they loved, which they did often, their eyes were sad. In the night they started up at the whicker of one of the horses, or the sound of hoofs in the darkness. They called from one wagon to the other: 'Did you hear aught, Mother?'
'It was only one of our own horses, Louisa. Sleep now. Jim will come soon.'
'Are you well, Verity?'
'As well as you, but I miss Mansur as much as you miss Jim.'
'Do not fret, girls,' Sarah calmed them. 'They are Courtneys and they are tough. They'll be back soon.'
Every four or five days a rider came up from Fort Auspice with a leather satchel over his shoulder that contained letters for them. His arrival was the highlight of their lives. Each of the women seized the letter addressed to her and rushed to her own wagon to read it alone. They emerged much later, flushed and smiling, filled with ephemeral high spirits to discuss the news they had received. Then they began the long, lonely wait until the rider came again.
Intepe's grandfather, Tegwane, was the night-watchman. At his age he slept little and took his duties seriously. He prowled endlessly around the wagons on his stork thin legs with his spear over his shoulder. Zama was the camp overseer. He had eight men under him, including the
wagon drivers and the armed ask ari Izeze, the flea, was growing into a robust youth, and a fine musket shot. He was the sergeant of the guard.
On Jim's orders Inkunzi had moved all the cattle herds up from the coast into the hills where they would be safe from any incursion by Zayn al-Din's expeditionary force. He and all his Nguni herders were close at hand if any emergency arose.
After twenty-eight days in the river camp the women should have felt secure, but they did not. They should have been able to sleep soundly, but they were not. The premonition of evil hung over them all.
That particular night Louisa had not been able to sleep. She had hung a blanket over George's cot to shield him from the light, while she lay on the car dell bed propped up on her pillows and read Henry Fielding by the light of the oil lamp. Suddenly she cast aside the book and rushed to the afterclap of the wagon. She pulled open the curtains and listened until she was certain, then she called, 'Rider coming. It must be the mail.'
The lamps in the other wagons flared as the wicks were turned up, and all three women jumped down and stood in a huddle in front of the kitchen. They were talking excitedly as Zama and Tegwane piled logs on the fire and a shower of sparks flew upwards.
Sarah was the first to grow uneasy. 'There is more than one horse.' She cocked her head to listen.
'Do you think it may be the men?' Louisa asked eagerly.
'I don't know.'
'Perhaps we should take precautions,' Verity suggested. 'We should not presume that because they are mounted and come without stealth they are friendly.'
'Verity is right. Louisa, fetch Georgie! Everyone else into the kitchen! We will lock ourselves in there until we know who they are.'
Louisa gathered up the skirts of her nightgown and raced back to her wagon, her long pale hair flying out behind her. Intepe came running from her hut with her children, and Sarah and Verity shepherded them into the kitchen. Sarah snatched a musket from the rack and stood at the doorway.
'Hurry, Louisa!' she shouted urgently. The sound of hoofs swelled louder, and out of the night galloped a large band of horsemen. They charged into the camp and reined in, their horses milling about, knocking over buckets and chairs, kicking up a haze of dust in the firelight.
'Who are you?' Sarah called sharply, still standing four-square in the doorway. 'What do you want with us?'
The leader of the band rode towards her and pushed his hat on to the back of his head so that she could see he was a white man. 'Put down that gun, woman. Get all your people out here in the open. I am taking charge here.'
Verity stepped up beside Sarah. 'It's my father,' she told Sarah softly. 'Guy Courtney.'
'Verity, you treacherous child. Come out of there. You have much to answer for.'
'You leave her be, Guy Courtney. Verity is under my protection.'
Guy laughed bitterly as he recognized her. 'Sarah Beatty, my beloved sister-in-law. It's been many a long year since we parted.'
'Not long enough for my taste,' Sarah told him grimly. Till have you know that I am no longer Beatty, but Mrs. Tom Courtney. Now be gone and leave us alone.'
'You should not boast of marriage to such a black rogue and lecher, Sarah. However, I cannot leave so soon. You have in your possession things that have been stolen from me. My gold and my daughter. I have come to reclaim them.'
'You will have to kill me before you get your hands on either of them.'
That would cause me no hardship, I assure you.' He laughed again and looked back at Peters. 'Tell the men to search the wagons.'
'Stop!' Sarah raised the musket.
'Shoot!' Guy invited her. 'But I swear it will be the last thing you ever do.'
While Sarah hesitated, Guy's men jumped off their horses and rushed to the wagons. There was a shout and Peters told Guy, 'They have found the gold chests.'
Then there was a scream and two of the Arabs dragged Louisa from her wagon. She had George in her arms and she was struggling wildly with her captors. 'Leave me! Leave my baby.'
'Who is this brat?' Guy reached down, grabbed the child by one arm and tore him from Louisa's grip. He looked at Sarah across the fire. 'Do you know anything about this little bastard?'
Verity tugged surreptitiously at the back of Sarah's nightdress, and whispered urgently, 'Don't let him know what George means to you. He will use him ruthlessly.'
'So, my darling daughter is conniving with her father's enemies. Shame on you, child.'
