Warrior

admirable captain, who was at Umtata with me.' (He hoped that mention of the battle would remind Colonel Smith of his 'native' credentials.) 'I don't know the Reliant's exact capacity, but if she can't ship them all, and the chargers and bat-horses, I shall reduce the number of sabres to accommodate the riflemen.'

'As I imagined. But landing at Port Natal with such a force will need some herald, will it not, lest Shaka take fright?'

'Somervile has sent word to Natal to prepare the way. Voerlopers, our Dutch friends call them.' Again, Hervey thought that a little display of local knowledge might give his companion second thoughts.

They were rounding a blind corner by a craggy outcrop, and the driving horse shied suddenly. The whiskey lurched to the left, and the nearside wheel-spokes splintered painfully against the jagged granite.

'Damnation!' spat Colonel Smith, recovering his balance.

Hervey had already jumped down to take hold of the horse, which stood stock-still in surprise, but which otherwise showed every sign of bolting. 'We'd better unhitch him.We can't change the wheel with him between the shafts.'

Colonel Smith got down, patting the gelding on the neck encouragingly. 'He's no shier, as a rule.'

'They never are,' replied Hervey ruefully. 'Could have been anything – snake, probably.' He began unfastening the harness.

A falling rock made them turn.

'Perhaps that was it,' said Colonel Smith, anxious only to get the gelding from between the shafts before there was any more damage.

Hervey looked back again. A black face atop a crag thirty yards off ducked down into cover.

'Indeed it might have been. See,' he said, gesturing. 'Yonder, the rocks with those yellow flowers.'

Colonel Smith looked, but saw nothing.

'There was a Kaffir.' Hervey let go the harness and cupped his hands to his mouth. 'Wenza ntoni apho!' he called.

There was no reply, nor sight of the man.

'Curse them! Two or three backs to the wheel would serve nicely.' He turned again to the harness.

Neither of them heard the Hottentots edging their way behind the crags towards them. Only the whiskey- gelding, who whinnied in vain.

'Steady,' growled Hervey, unfastening the last buckle.

The gelding shied suddenly. Hervey jumped clear, cursing.

But now he saw them – spears, blades, clubs. 'Christ!' he gasped, drawing his sabre as Colonel Smith lunged for his own on the whiskey's seat.

He ran straight at the nearest, sword levelled. Before the man could guard or parry, the point was four inches in his chest.

Hervey withdrew – 'on guard' – for the split second it took for the Hottentot to crumple, then lunged at a second.

A third rushed him with a nailed club. Hervey gave point again – this time above the breastbone.

A fourth faltered, then turned and ran. The rest took flight with him, making for their craggy fastness as suddenly as they'd come.

Hervey turned to see Colonel Smith, sword drawn.

'What in the name of God . . .'

'We were lucky,' said Hervey, grimly. He did not add that he reckoned himself careless for having to count on it, for he should not have allowed himself such an ambush.

The Hottentots had died so quickly that Colonel Smith's blade had not been needed. He shook his head in admiration as he returned his sword. 'I don't recall I ever saw such sabre-work. My compliments to you, sir.'

Hervey raised his eyebrows. 'The warrior's trade. Yours, as mine.'

'Just so; but all the same . . . Were they bandits?'

Hervey was yet making sure that those at his feet were not feigning death. He threw the clubs into the scrub, and a rusty cutlass. 'Maroons,' he said, sighing at having to use his sabre thus. 'That's what Fairbrother calls them, at least. Wretched creatures. See the brand on this one?'

He wiped his sabre on a patch of moss before sheathing it.

'Wretched indeed,' said Colonel Smith, examining the mark – and the shackle scars about the ankles. 'But I shall have the burghers form a posse to apprehend them. I've no craving for chasing runaways, but if they threaten the peace so . . .'

'They keep well to the north, as a rule. A regular little band. They must have thought us merchants, easy pickings.'

'I'd've given 'em silver to change the blessed wheel,' rasped Colonel Smith, turning back to the whiskey.

And then he turned again, as if he had come to some particular resolution. 'Hervey, I will say it here, without ceremony. I would that you keep the lieutenant-governor out of harm's way in like manner. In Natal, I mean.'

'Do you doubt that I might?'

Colonel Smith shook his head. 'I mean that yours shall be the entire responsibility.'