I'm still so fat, she lamented. Fancy, please stay in bed another day

or two. She pulled a face at him and went on struggling with the lacing

of her bodice. Who's going to look after the baby? I will! said Sean

earnestly. You can tell me what to do Arguing with Katrina was like

trying to pick up quicksilver with your fingers, not worth the effort.

She finished dressing and took up the child.

You can help me down the steps. She smiled at him.

Sean and Alphonso set a chair for her in the shade of one of the big

shuma trees and the servants came to see the child. Katrina held him in

her lap and Sean stood over them in uncertain possession. For Sean it

seemed unreal yet . . . too much for his mind to digest in so short a

time.

He grinned dazedly at the steady stream of comment from his servants and

his arm was limp when Alphonso shook his hand for the twentieth time

that morning. Hold your child . . .

Nkosi. Let us see you with him on your arm called mbejane and the other

Zulus took up the cry. Sean's expression changed slowly to one of

apprehension. Pick him up, Nkosi Katrina proffered the bundle and a

hunted look came into Sean's eyes. Have no fear, Nkosi, he has no

teeth, he cannot harm you, Hlubi encouraged him. Sean held his

first-born awkwardly and assumed the hunchbacked posture of the new

father. The Zulus cheered him and slowly Sean's face relaxed and his

smile was a glow of pride. Mbejane, is he not beautiful? As beautiful

as his father, Mbejane agreed.

Your words are a blade with two edges, laughed Sean.

He looked at the child closely. It wore a cap of dark hair, its nose

was flat as a bulldog's, its eyes were milky-grey and its legs were

long, skinny and red, How will you name him? asked Hlubi. Sean looked

at Katrina.

Tell them, he said.

He shall be called Dirk, she said in Zulu. What is the meaning? asked

Hlubi, and Sean answered him. It means a dagger . . . a sharp knife.

There was immediate nodded approval from all the servants.

Hiubi produced his snuff-box and passed it among them and Mbejane took a

pinch. That, he said, is a good name. Paternity, the subtle alchemist,

transformed Sean's attitude to life within twelve hours. Never before

had anything been so utterly dependent upon him, so completely

Vulnerable. That first evening in their wagon he watched katrina

sitting cross-legged on her cot, stooping forward over it to give it her

breast. Her hair hung in a soft wing across one cheek, her face was

fuller, more matronly and the child in her lap fed with a red face and

small wheezings. She looked up at him and smiled and the child tugged

her breast with its tiny fists and hunting mouth.

Sean crossed to the cot, sat beside them and put his :arm around them.

Katrina rubbed her cheek against his chest and her hair smelt warm and

clean. The boy went on feeding noisily. Sean felt vaguely excited as

though he were on the threshold of a new adventure.

A week later, when the first rain clouds built up in the sky, Sean took

the wagons across the Sabi and onto the slopes of the mountains to

escape the heat of the plains.

There was a valley-he had noticed when he and Mubi had made their

journey to the coast. The valley bottom was covered with short sweet

grass and cedar trees grew along a stream of clean water. Sean took

them to this place.

Here they would wait out the rainy season and when it was finished and

the baby was strong enough to travel they could take the ivory south and

sell it in Pretoria. It was a happy camp. The oxen spread out along

the valley, filling it with movement and the contented sound of their

lowing; there was laughter among the wagons and at night when the mist

slumped down off the mountains the camp fire was bright and friendly.

Father Alphonso stayed with them for nearly two weeks. He was a

pleasant young man and although he and Sean never understood what the

other was saying yet they managed well enough with sign language. He

left at last with Hlubi and one of the other servants to escort him back

over the mountains, but before he did he managed to embarrass Sean by

kissing him goodbye. Sean and Katrina were sorry to see him go. They

had grown to like him and Katrina had almost forgiven him his religion.

The rains came with the usual flourish and weeks drifted into months.

Happy months, with life centring around Dirk's cot. Mbejane had made

the cot for him out of cedarwood and one of Katrina's chests produced

the sheets and blankets for it. The child grew quickly: each day he

seemed to occupy more of his cot, his legs filled out, his skin lost its

blotchy-purple look and his eyes were no longer a vague milky-blue.

There was green in them now, they would be the same colour as his

mother's.

To fill the long lazy days Sean started to build a cabin beside the

stream. The servants joined in and from a modest first plan it grew

into a thing of sturdy plastered walls and neatly thatched roof with a

stone fireplace at one end. When it was finished Sean and Katrina moved

into it. After their wagon with its thin canvas walls, the cabin gave a

feeling of permanence to their love. One night, when the rain hissed

down in darkness outside and the wind whined at the door like a dog

wanting to be let in, they spread a mattress in front of the fireplace

and there in the moving firelight they started another baby.

Christmas came, and after it the New Year. The rains stuttered and

stopped and still they stayed on in their valley. Then at last they had

to go, for their supplies of basic stores, powder, salt, medicines,

cloth, were nearly finished. They loaded the wagons, inspanned and left

in the early morning. As the line of wagons wound down the valley

towards the plains Katrina sat on the box-seat of the lead wagon holding

Dirk on her lap and Sean rode beside her. She looked back, the roof of

their cabin showed brown through the branches of the cedar trees. It

seemed forlorn and lonely. We must come back one day, we've been so

happy here, she said softly. Sean leaned out of the saddle towards her

and touched her arm. Happiness isn't a place, my fancy, we aren't

leaving it here, we're taking it with us. She smiled at him. The second

baby was starting to show already.

They reached the Limpopo river at the end of July and found a place to

cross. It took three days to unload the wagons, work them through the

soft sand and then carry the ivory and stores across. They finished in

the late afternoon of the third day and by then everyone was exhausted.

They ate an early supper and an hour after sunset the Zulus were rolled