The Map of Bones, page 20
The words sent a shiver down her spine. ‘And nobody there?’
‘Nobody, alive or dead.’
Suzanne picked up her cup. ‘Will you ask him to tell you the whole story, then repeat it to me?’
‘Years pass,’ Harrie said after an interval, picking up the narrative. ‘The old chief dies and his eldest son – the one closest to his heart – succeeds him. More and more ships are sailing to Batavia and stopping in Table Bay to take on fresh food and water. The new headsman of the clan holds to the old ways, travelling across the land, building and striking settlements as they move their herds of cattle. The younger son, in the meantime, has established a permanent base closer to where the Colony now stands, so as to be first at hand when a new ship docks. He builds up his personal wealth, not in honour nor cattle, but in the white man’s goods: iron, copper, silver, china. His followers benefit, too. He learns to speak Dutch, all the better to drive a good bargain, and is one of the first to build relationships with the Colony when the Dutch establish a refreshment station.’
Suzanne interrupted. ‘But what of Louise?’
‘This is where the story is harder to follow. But it seems as if, at about this time, new accounts begin to surface about two white men living near to where the original settlement had been.’
Suzanne frowned. ‘Two men, not a man and a woman?’
‘Two men.’ Harrie shrugged. ‘Whether it is true or not, I cannot say. One of these men was said to have the Devil’s mark. I am sorry. This is not what you want to hear.’
Suzanne could not allow herself to feel disappointed, not until she knew everything Tshu had to share.
‘Which means either Louise died,’ she said, talking as much to herself as to the others, ‘or that one of them killed her.’
She sat and looked into the flames. Had Gilles and Phillipe formed an alliance and turned against Louise? But then she thought again of the way in which Louise wrote about Gilles in her diary, her love for him, and could not believe it.
‘And Tshu knows nothing more?’ she asked, when he had fallen silent.
‘He has told me everything he heard from his father and grandfather. I have repeated it faithfully.’
‘And I am grateful,’ Suzanne said. ‘Please tell him so.’
She waited while Harrie relayed her thanks.
‘Can we go to the site of their original camp?’ she asked Harrie. It seemed as good a place to start as any. ‘Do you know where it is?’
‘We can, but this all happened many years ago, before the Dutch wars. There will most likely be nothing there now.’
‘All the same . . .’
Harrie nodded. He understood how the land held the echo of the past, the spirit of a person, how it preserved the truth of what had happened.
‘And after that?’ Tia asked, her eyes bright with interest.
‘I will know when I get there,’ Suzanne answered, hoping that it would turn out to be true.
CHAPTER FORTY
Monday, 20th December
When Suzanne woke the following morning, Tshu had gone. Tia was her usual bright self, but Harrie seemed to be struggling. The mark on his face where Odendaal’s cane had struck seemed more pronounced. She wanted to ask how he was feeling, but suspected he would not welcome the question. He was a private man, and a proud one.
Suzanne stretched and looked out from the encampment to the vista laid out before them. It was going to be another beautiful day. An apricot dawn sky silhouetted the trees on the ridge to their left, the sun beginning to rise in the sky sending slants of light across the green land. She drank a little water, ate a sweet biscuit, banged her boots together to check no insect had taken refuge there in the night, and put her knife back on her belt.
Harrie saddled her horse, refusing all help though Suzanne noticed he was moving more stiffly than before. Then they doused the fire, stamping the last embers into the dirt until the red turned to grey. Wildfires on the plains and in the forests were a constant threat during the hot, dry summer months.
They set out as the sun was rising, walking east: Harrie led the way with his spear in his right hand, Tia brought up the rear, her knife at her belt, and Suzanne rode between them.
‘Are we now going to where the old chief allotted Louise a parcel of land?’ she asked.
‘We are, but not directly,’ Harrie replied. ‘When you were sleeping, Tshu and I talked further. Although he knows nothing more from his own experience, he remembered something else.’
‘Yes?’
‘There is a clan who tend their animals to the north of here, towards the Simonsberg mountains. He remembered that there was a very old woman who claimed to have delivered a child to one of your kind.’
Suzanne felt a jolt in her stomach.
‘Women hear different stories to men,’ Tia said. Suzanne knew this to be true. She thought of Florence sitting with her friends in the meeting room, sharing every piece of gossip between them, and smiled, feeling a sudden longing to be in her grandmother’s company. What stories she would have to share with her when she returned to the Colony. Perhaps she would even be back in time to mark her own birthday on the first day of the New Year?
‘Where will we find this clan?’ she asked.
‘Tshu last had sight of them near the Groot Berg River.’ He looked up at her. ‘It will be the same, you understand. We will only learn something if the midwife passed on her story to her daughter and her daughter’s daughter.’
‘I do, but someone must have said something, for even a whisper to have reached Tshu’s ears.’
‘I agree.’ Harrie nodded. ‘We should be there by the time the sun is at its highest.’
Suzanne looked at the sky. By her reckoning, if they kept a steady pace, that should be in six hours’ time.
They rode through the emerald landscape. Softly undulating hills, the land less dry as they made their way. Mile after mile, hearing the jackals that seemed ever present, but never visible. Tia pointed out a herd of bontebok. Suzanne was pleased at how much she could identify for herself, knowledge amassed like treasure in the four months she had been in Africa. Then an embarrassed smile lit her face. The truth of the land lay far beneath the surface and would take a lifetime to understand.
Suddenly, Harrie stopped. Suzanne pulled up her horse, too, her heart speeding up. Tia came from behind to stand beside her brother, her hands pressed together almost as if she was praying.
‘Look, miss,’ she said in a voice full of awe. ‘They have come to welcome us. The forceful ones.’
Suzanne followed the line of Tia’s finger, allowing her gaze to narrow down, seeing the grey against the green, and caught her breath. She reached into her satchel, withdrew her eyeglass and adjusted the sight. Elephants. No description had done justice to these magnificent beasts. Even at a distance, she could appreciate their majesty.
‘Can we go closer?’ she asked in awe.
‘A little, but we do not want to disturb them,’ Harrie said. ‘Can you see, many of the females have little ones? Your people, as well as ours, hunt elephants for their tusks – ivory is very precious – but not in calving season.’
‘Do both male and female elephants have tusks?’
‘They do,’ replied Tia. ‘The herd are ruled by the females, the males come and go.’
Suzanne could see the smaller animals beside the adult elephants, half hidden by their trunks and their vast grey ears, triangular like a lateen sail.
Silently, they moved forward until, even without her eyeglass, Suzanne could see there were six adults and four calves. They came as close as Harrie would allow and stood in silence. Then in a low voice, almost as if he thought the elephants might hear them, he whispered: ‘We must go around them to go on.’
As they set a line to the left, then back through the valley, Suzanne thought about how hard it would be to give birth to a child in these surroundings, aided only by a woman who did not speak your language. Wondering how Louise would have felt, the fear of it and the pain. Assuming that Louise was the mother. For if not her, then who?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The sun burnt bright in a cloudless sky as they headed north towards the Simonsberg mountains. The heat was almost more than Suzanne could bear. She could see Harrie was suffering too.
‘We will stop when we reach water,’ he said.
Finally, they came to the beginnings of a tributary of the Dwars River. Suzanne dismounted, then cupped the clear water in her hands and cooled her face. Harrie and Tia did the same.
‘Where now?’ she asked, standing in the shade of the trees.
‘Tshu saw the clan camped close to the mountains,’ Harrie replied. ‘We will follow the path of the river upstream. That should lead us there.’
Walking single file beneath the green canopy at the water’s edge, the song of the current was restful in the heaviness of the afternoon.
Finally, Harrie led them up onto open land. Here, the trees on the ridge were buffeted by the wind: yellow-wood with its long hanging leaves, wild peach trees and wild olives.
‘That is where Tshu said they were,’ Tia explained, pointing to a patch of higher ground.
Suzanne’s heart sank. ‘But there is no one here,’ she said, seeing nothing in any direction. ‘We have wasted time with this diversion.’
‘Wait and see,’ Harrie said, breaking into a long, looping run towards the abandoned encampment ahead. Suzanne watched him, as he neared the perimeter of where the huts had been constructed, then beckoned for them to join him by the burntout fire.
He rubbed the ash between his fingers. ‘Still warm. They have not been long gone.’
‘But how can we know where they are going? East, west, is there any way of telling?’
‘At this time of year, they will be heading north,’ he said. ‘And their cattle will leave a trail.’
‘But north takes us further away from Olifantshoek,’ Suzanne protested.
‘It is up to you, miss,’ Harrie said. ‘They cannot have gone far and they will be moving more slowly than us with the herd.’ He met her gaze with his dark, steady eyes. ‘If you want to hear directly the story Tshu heard rumour of, then this is what I advise. If, however, you wish only to stand where your ancestor once lived, then there is no need. The choice is yours.’
Suzanne looked out over the empty green horizon. The truth was it was no longer enough just to see where Louise had lived. If there was a child, then she wanted to know.
She nodded. ‘We will continue north.’
Harrie’s instinct was right. As the sun was beginning its downward path, they heard distant noises, carried on the wind over the rise and fall of the land. Harrie stopped and held up his hand, then cocked his head to the sound. Now Suzanne heard it too. Voices and the distinctive lowing of cattle somewhere up ahead.
‘This way,’ he said, adjusting their course to the right.
It was not much longer before they saw a knot of people in the distance. Suzanne lifted her eyeglass, then handed it to Harrie.
‘Perhaps ten or twelve women and men,’ she said.
‘Yes, and some dozen cattle. I will go ahead. Pay my respects and see if they are, indeed, those we seek.’
Once he had gone, Suzanne slipped down from the saddle and stretched her shoulders. Then she patted the mare’s neck and loosened the reins so she could graze.
‘Are you tired, Tia? Walking so far in this heat?’
The girl laughed. ‘This is nothing, miss.’
Suzanne tried to picture this landscape in the winter. She could not ever imagine being cold again.
‘How did you come to be working for mijnheer Odendaal?’ she asked.
Tia gave a shrug of her slight shoulders, but Suzanne did not think she resented the question for she replied quickly enough. ‘There are only the two of us, my brother and I. Our parents, our kith, are dead or gone.’
‘And Harrie is often away . . .’
‘It is good that he works so hard, and he is so admired by the VOC for his skill with languages, but—’
‘– it leaves you alone.’
‘Yes. I want to marry, miss, but the right man. One who will treat me well. So, I decided to work in a big house until that time came. I thought – we thought – it might be safe there. But mijnheer Odendaal . . .’
‘He is not a good man.’
‘No, miss.’ Tia flushed. ‘And when the master of a house is –’ she mimed wandering hands – ‘then the other servants follow his lead.’ She tossed her head back. ‘But I can take care of myself, I know the tricks.’
Suzanne pulled a face. ‘Me too.’
Tia looked surprised. ‘You know such trouble, miss?’
‘There are villains everywhere, Tia, where I come from as well as here. It is a man’s heart that makes the difference, good or bad.’ She grinned. ‘Perhaps we should learn to live like elephants, then we would have no trouble.’
Tia burst out laughing. ‘That’s right. No men, no trouble!’
When Harrie came back, he found them sitting on the ground chattering away like birds in a tree. He looked from his sister to Suzanne, but wisely decided not to enquire.
‘We are fortunate. The daughter of the old woman who claimed to have delivered a baby to a white mother so many years ago, is one of the elders of this clan.’ He turned to his sister. ‘They are not our people, but I think there is fellowship here.’ Then he turned back to Suzanne. ‘The mother’s name was Fala; the daughter’s name is Shansi. She is prepared to tell you what she knows.’
Something in the tone of his voice gave Suzanne pause. ‘Do you not trust them, Harrie?’
He took a moment to answer. ‘I think it would be wise to be on our guard,’ he replied carefully. ‘This clan is an off-shoot of the Cochoqua, one of the largest groups. They played a leading role in the second war with the Dutch and hate the VOC with a vengeance. It would be wise to leave anything we carry of value here. Your horse, certainly. The musket too, perhaps. You can stay here on guard, Tia. I will walk juffrouw Joubert to the encampment, then bring her back as soon as the talking is done.’
Suzanne looked to the sky. It was not yet dusk, but the sun would set soon.
‘You do not intend to ask for shelter for the night?’
‘They are not our people. So, we should discover what we have come to discover, then continue our journey.’ He paused. ‘We should have something as a gift for Shansi to show our good will.’
Suzanne thought for a moment, then took out a kerchief from her satchel. White with a broderie anglaise trim, a pretty repeated pattern of ovals and lace, her initials were stitched on in green: SJ.
‘Might this serve?’
Harrie nodded. ‘It will do well. And for the clan leader?’
‘We might spare a bottle of brandy.’
‘Good.’
He led her horse into the copse away from the overhanging rock, then took the musket and hid it in the dead trunk of one of the yellow-wood trees furthest from the encampment.
‘Conceal the ammunition, too,’ he added.
Suzanne removed the bandolier and wrapped it over, then hesitated before pushing it down into a hole in the ground.
‘It will be safer here, less obvious.’
She then placed Louise’s diary on top and covered the hiding place with brush and leaves. Of all things, she could not bear the thought of losing that. Like Pierre Jaubert’s bible, it had kept her company for too long. She slid her knife round to the back of her skirt, so it was not visible, then stood up and brushed the dirt from her hands.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I am ready.’
‘Follow my lead, miss, if you will,’ Harrie said under his breath as they walked into the encampment.
Suzanne nodded. ‘I shall.’
The camp was similar to the one they had stayed in the previous evening: a ditch surrounding the matjieshuis which had been erected in a circle, facing inwards around a central fire, and a makeshift kraal behind the encampment where the cattle were grazing. As they drew closer, Suzanne noted that the women withdrew into the huts, leaving the men to bid them welcome.
There were three elders, with their distinctive broad and flat faces, and four younger men, one of whom was attempting to stare Harrie down. He had his spear raised rather than holding it to the ground beside him. He looked as if he resented their presence.
Harrie bowed to the clan leader, then gestured to her. Suzanne gave a small bow. A fast conversation followed between the men – the youngest man interrupting several times until the clan chief raised his hand and put it in front of his mouth.
‘Hî-î, Kmame.’ No.
The angry youth stalked away to the edge of the encampment, followed by the three younger men.
Harrie turned to Suzanne. ‘They will take you to Shansi now.’
She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Who is that disagreeable youth who does not want us here?’
Harrie’s expression did not change, though she saw a flicker of warning in his eyes. ‘Kmame is the son of the leader of the clan and you are right, he wishes we had not come. But his anger is not directed against you. At least, not only at you. He does not approve of me, either. A verrader, as the Dutch would have it.’
‘A collaborator?’
‘Kmame is one of those who considers any who work for the VOC a traitor to our race.’ Harrie shrugged. ‘Who’s to say? He might be right.’
‘You are trying to make things better for your family,’ Suzanne said, springing to his defence. ‘There is nothing to be ashamed of in that.’
Harrie gave a ghost of a smile. ‘Time will tell.’
They followed one of the elders to the hut in the middle of the compound. He called out a greeting. From within, a female voice answered, and they found themselves ushered inside the matjieshuis. It was clean and airy, angled so that a gentle breeze slipped through small gaps in the reed walls.
An old woman sat on a mat on the ground, dressed the same as the men outside: a karros around her waist, her shoulders and chest bare. Her skin hung in loose folds, like brown velvet, on her arms and belly.
