'I don't suppose they're any different from those who swarm round a camp of soldiers anywhere, but in the circumstances . . .'
'I don't imagine they are,' agreed Somervile, 'save that they may tell us a great deal more about matters than would your average peasant.'
He was soon proved right. With the babble of women and children was Pampata.
They received her warmly, offering her a camp-chair, and tea, which she drank with surprised pleasure, before she in turn presented them with a gourd full of honey. Somervile had no difficulty making himself understood, or understanding, albeit the conversation was of a straightforward kind. Hervey grasped the essentials well enough. And Pampata appeared perfectly at ease and in no measure fearful. But yet to him she was . . . preoccupied.
At length she revealed her purpose. 'The king has sent for reports from the armies in Pondoland and in the north, against Soshangane. He is displeased with the
Somervile asked Hervey if he had understood.
Hervey thought he had. 'Is it not but a reprise of her previous fears?'
'It is, but with more reason. You heard her say there were malcontents in the army?'
Hervey frowned. 'There are always malcontents in an army.'
Somervile waved a hand. 'Yes, yes, but we are not speaking of the odd case of insubordination.'
'I suppose not.'
He turned back to Pampata. 'Why, madam, does Shaka not take the necessary precautions himself ? He has the means to do so, does he not?'
Pampata had been expecting just such a riposte. 'He will not believe they would do him harm. He says that just as he could not raise a hand against one of his father's sons, they could not also.'
Somervile made sympathetic noises.
Hervey looked at him for enlightenment.
His old friend repeated what she had said, adding, 'There is either a nobility among the Zulu people which surpasses all others – or Shaka is as deluded as Hamlet's father.'
Fairbrother had now joined them, fresh from the folds and hollows; enlivened, indeed. Johnson placed a canteen of tea in his hands as he took the remaining chair.
'Shakespeare, again, Sir Eyre? I believe he might have written a good play here.'
Somervile nodded. 'You come most carefully upon your hour.'
'But not to see a ghost, I hope.'
Somervile explained what Pampata had told them.
'And what did you say by reply? I believe I heard you tell her we were the king's good friends.' (He was careful not to use 'Shaka'.)
'Exactly so.'
Hervey leaned forward, lending emphasis to a look of some concern. 'But surely you are not contemplating intervention on our part without the king's express will? I must say that I consider her fears' (he was equally careful not to use 'Pampata') 'tend to . . . frankly, an hysteric passion. I cannot imagine that one such as this king, who has raised his nation by the most barbarous of acts, is about to hazard all by refusing to take the most elementary precautions!'
Somervile did not at first answer, appearing to weigh his words.
'What say you, Fairbrother?'
For a few moments, Fairbrother merely continued to sip his tea. 'Sir Eyre, in the febrile condition of this wretched country I would hazard no guess at what might happen. I attempted to read the face of yon Othello, and saw nothing but the tyrant's hubris.'
Somervile raised his eyebrows. 'Upon my word, we seem embarked on some tragedy!' He looked again at Hervey.
Hervey was reluctant to doubt his friend's instincts (they had served him well of late), but also his own. 'I confess I find her convincing in her sincerity, but without cause other than her evident charms. She might equally be a spy. There is precedent.'
Somervile nodded once more. 'We must treat her with the very greatest courtesy, nonetheless. She is the king's favourite, and evidently holds sway – as the deference of that wily chamberlain of his demonstrated.'
And so they treated her attentively, and gave her little presents – horsehair, tunic buttons, a looking-glass and a silver whistle. She stayed with them for an hour and more, until the others she had come with were ready to return, and she took her leave with them, as if she shared their simple curiosity in a camp of soldiers, and no more.
The routine of the morning passed unobserved except by the odd herd boy. The general parade drew no admirers, neither did the midday bring out those with things to trade, so that Somervile began to wonder if he should not make his approaches once again. Heavy clouds had begun rolling in from the east, however, and so instead they occupied themselves in making shelter (amid a good deal of grumbling in the ranks that with many an empty hut inside the kraal, it was needless to take a drenching).
Late in the afternoon, bearers arrived at the kraal with heavy portage.
Fairbrother, who had been talking with some of the youthful drovers by the watering place beyond the
