I thought -we had for ever to be together. She swallowed painfully.

-Then I found you there in the grass, torn and dead. Before our life

together had begun you were dead.

Sean saw the pain come back into her eyes; she was living it again. He

put out his hand to her but she held his wrist. No, wait. . . please

let me finish. I have to explain to you. It's very important. Sean

dropped his hand and she went on speaking quickly.

You were dead and I, too, was dying inside. I felt empty.

There was nothing left. Nothing. . . just the hollowness inside and

the dry dead feeling on the outside. I touched your face and you looked

at me. I prayed then, Sean, and I prayed through the days when you

fought the rotting of your body!

She knelt in front of him and held him around the waist. Now we are

alive and together again, but I know that it cannot be for ever. A day

more, a year, if we are lucky, twenty. But not for ever. I see how

small I have been to us. I want to be your wife!

He bent to her quickly but she pulled away and stood up. She slipped

the buttons and her clothing fell away.

She loosed her hair and let it drop shiny bright down the whiteness of

her body. Look at me, Sean, I want you to look at me. This and my love

I can give you . . . is it enough? There was smoothness, hollow and

swell, hair like black fire and soft light on soft skin. He saw the

flush from her cheeks spread onto her breasts until they glowed, pink

and shy but proud in their perfection. He looked no further. He took

her to him and covered her nakedness with his big body. She was

trembling and he put her between the sheets and gentled her with his

voice until the trembling stopped and she lay with her face pressed up

under his beard into his neck.

Show me how. . . I want to give everything to you.

Please show me how, she whispered.

So they married each other and their marriage was a comingling of many

things. There was the softness of the wind in it and wanting, the way

the baked earth wants the rain. There was pain sharp and swift,

movement like running horses, sound low as voices in the night but glad

as a greeting, joy climbing on eagles wings, the triumphant surge and

burst of wild water on a rock shore and then there was stillness and

warmth within and the snuggling of drowsy puppies, and sleep. Yet it

did not end in the sleep, it went on to another seeking and finding,

another union and a stranger mystery in the secret depths of her body.

all In the morning she brought her Bible to him. Hey, hey, protested

Sean, I've already sworn one oath. Katrina laughed at him, the memory

of the night still warm and happy inside her. She opened the book at

Its fly leaf. You've got to write your name in it. . . Here, next to

mine!

She watched him, standing next to his chair with her hip touching his

shoulder.

And your date of birth, she said.

Sean wrote: Ninth Jan. 1862, . Then he said: What's this "date of

death". do you want me to fill that in as well? Don't talk like that,

she said quickly and touched the wooden table.

Sean was sorry he'd said it. He tried to cover up.

There's only space for six children! We can write the others in the

margin. That's what Ma did. . . . hers even go over onto the first

page of Genesis.

Do you think we'll get that far, Sean?

Sean smiled at her. The way I feel now we should reach the New

Testament without much trouble. They had made a good start. By June

the rains were over and Katrina walked with her shoulders back to

balance her load. There was a good feeling in the camp. Katrina was

more woman than child now. She was big and radiant, pleased with the

awe her condition inspired in Sean.

She sang to herself often and sometimes in the night she would let him

share in it. She would let him pull the nightdress back from the mound

of her stomach and lay his ear against the tight-stretched, blue-veined

skin. He listened to the suck and gurgle and felt the movement against

his cheek. When he sat up his eyes would be full of the wonder of it

and she would smile proudly at him and take his head on her shoulder and

they would be together quietly. In the daytime things were right as

well.

Sean laughed with the servants and hunted without the intensity of

before.

They moved north along the Sabi river. Sometimes they camped for a

month at one place. The game came back to the rivers as the veld dried

out and once more the ivory started piling up in the wagons.

One afternoon in September Sean and Katrina left the camp and walked

along the bank. The land was brown again and smelt of dry grass. The

river was pools and white sand. Hell, it's hot! Sean took off his hat

and wiped the sweat off his forehead. You must be cooking under all

those clothes!

No, I'm all right! Katrina was holding his arm. Let's have a swim. You

mean with no clothes on?

Katrina looked shocked. Yes, why notV It's rude! Come on! He took her

down the bank protesting every step and at a place where boulders

screened the water he prised her out of her dress. She was laughing and

gasping and blushing all at the same time. He carried her into the pool

and she sat down thankfully with the water up to her chin.

How's that feel? Sean asked.

She let her hair down and it floated out round her, she wriggled her

toes in the sand and her stomach showed through the water like the back

of a white whale. It's nice, she admitted. It feels like silk

underwear against my skin. Sean stood over her with only his hat on.

She looked at him. Sit down, she said uncomfortably and looked away

from him.

Why? he asked. You know why! . . . you're rude, that's why!

Sean sat down beside her. You should be used to me by now. Well, I'm

not.

Sean put his arm round her under the water. You're lovely, he said.

You're my fancy.

She let him kiss her ear.

fWhat's it going to be? He touched the ripe swelling. Boy or girl?

This was currently the favourite topic of conversation.

She was very definite. What shall we call him? Well, if you don't find

a predikant soon we'll have to call him the name you're always giving to

the servants. Sean stared at her. What do you mean? You know what you

call them when you're cross. Bastard, said Sean, then really concerned,

Hell, I hadn't thought of that! We'll have to find a priest. No child

of mine will be a bastard. We'll have to go back to Louis Trichardt.

You've got about a month, Katrina warned him. My God, we'll never make

it. We've left it too late. Sean's face was ghastly. Wait, I've got

it. There are Portuguese settlements across the mountains on the coast.

Oh, Sean, but they're Roman Catholics. They all work for the same boss.

How long will it take to cross the mountains? Katrina asked doubtfully.

I don't know. Perhaps two weeks to reach the coast on horseback. On

horseback! Katrina looked still more doubtfully. Oh hell you can't

ride! Sean scratched the side of his nose. I'll have to go and fetch

one. Will you stay on your own? I'll leave Mbejane to look after you!

Yes, I'll be all right! won't go if you don't want me to. It's not

that important. It is important, you know it is. I'll be all right,

truly I Will Before he left the next morning Sean took Mbejane aside.

You know why you're not coming with me, don't YOU?

Mbejane nodded, but Sean answered his own question. Because there is

more important work for you to do here. At night, said Mbejane, I will

sleep beneath the Nkosikazils.

wagon. You'll sleep? asked Sean threateningly.

only once in a while and then very lightly, Mbejane grinned. That's

better, said Sean.

Sean said goodbye to Katrina. There were no tears, she understood

necessity and helped him to a quiet acceptance of it. They stood a long

while beside their wagon, holding each other, their lips almost touching

as they whispered together and then Sean called for his horse.

Mubi followed him leading the packhorse when he crossed the Saba and

when Sean reached the far bank he turned and looked back. Katrina was

still standing by their wagon and behind her hovered Mbejane. In her

bonnet and green dress she looked very young. Sean waved his hat over

his head and then set off towards the mountains.

The forests dwindled into grassland as they climbed and each night was

colder than the last. Then, in its turn the grassland conceded to the

sheer bluffs and misty gorges of the mountain back. Sean and Muhi

struggled upwards, following the game trails, losing them, turning back

from impassable cliffs, scouting for a pass, leading the horses over the

steep pitches and at night sitting close to the fire and listening to

the baboons barking in the kranses around them. Then suddenly, in the

middle of a Morning that was bright as a cut diamond, they were at the

top. To the west the land lay spread out like a map and the distance

they had travelled in a week was pathetically small. By straining his

eyes and his imagination Sean could make out the dark-green belt of the

Sabi watercourse. To the east the land merged with a blueness that was

not the sky and for a while he failed to recognize it.

Then, the sea, he shouted and Hlubi laughed with him for it was a

godlike feeling to stand above the world. They found an easier route

down the eastern slopes and followed it onto the coastal plain. At the

bottom of the mountains they came to a native village. To see

cultivated lands and human dwellings again was a small shock to Sean. He

had come to accept the fact that he and his retinue were the only people

left on earth.

The entire population of the village fled when they saw him. Mothers

snatched up a child in each hand and ran as fast as their menfolk,

memories of the slave-traders still persisted in this part of Africa.

Within two minutes of his arrival Sean again had the feeling that he was

the only person left on earth. With the contempt of the Zulu for every

other tribe in Africa, Hlubi shook his head sadly.

Monkeys, he said.

They dismounted and tied their horses under the big tree that was the

centre of the village. They sat in the shade and waited. The huts were

grass beehives, their roofs blackened with smoke, and a few chickens

picked and scratched at the bare earth between them. Half an hour later

Sean saw a black face watching him from the edge of the bush and he

ignored it. Slowly the face emerged, followed closely by a reluctant

body. With a twig, Sean went on drawing patterns in the dust between

his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the hesitant

approach. It was an old man with stork thin legs and one eye glazed

into a white jelly by tropical ophthalmic.

Sean concluded that his fellows had picked him to act as ambassador on

the grounds that of all their number he would be the least loss.

Sean looked up and gave him a radiant smile. The old Man froze and then

his lips twitched into a sickly grin of relief. Sean stood up, dusted

his hands on the sides of his breeches and went to shake the old man's

hand. Immediately the bush around them swarmed with people, they poured

back into the village jabbering and laughing: they crowded round Sean

and felt his clothing, peered into his face and exclaimed delightedly.

It was obvious that most of them had never seen a white man before. Sean

was trying to shake off One-Eye, who still had a possessive hold on

Sean's right hand, and Hlubi leaned disdainfully against the tree,

taking no part in the welcome. One-Eye ended the confusion by

screeching at them in a voice rusty with age. The courage he had

displayed earlier now earned its reward. At his command a dozen of the

younger women scampered off and came back with a carved wooden stool and

six earthenware pots of native beer. By the hand, on which he had not

for an instant relaxed his grip, One-Eye led Sean to the stool and made

him sit; the rest of the villagers squatted in a circle round him and

one of the girls brought the biggest beer-pot to Sean. The beer was

yellow and it bubbled sullenly, Sean's stomach shied at the sight of it.

He glanced at One-Eye who was watching him anxiously, he lifted the pot

and sipped.

Then he smiled with surprise; it was creamy and pleasantly tart.

Good, he said.

Goat, chorused the villagers.

Your health, said Sean.ealt, said the village as one man, and Sean drank

deep. One of the girls took another beer-pot to Hlubi. She knelt in

front of him and shyly offered it. She had a plaited-grass suing around

her waist from which a small kil hung down in front, but her stern was

completely exposed and her bosoms were the size and shape of ripe

melons.

Mubi looked at them until the girl hung her head, then he lifted the

beer-pot.

Sean wanted a guide to the nearest Portuguese settlement. He looked at

One-Eye and said, Town? Portagee? One-Eye was almost overcome by

Sean's attention. He grabbed Sean's hand again before he could pull it

away and shook it vigorously. Stop that, you bloody fool! said Sean