It burst and was blown to shreds in the wind and was gone. Everything

gone. The wind and the sail, the tension and the wanting, all gone.

There was left only the great nothingness which is peace. Perhaps a

kind of death; perhaps death is like that. But, like death, not an

ending, for even death contains the seeds of resurrection. So they came

back from peace to a new beginning slowly at first and then faster until

they were two people again. Two people on a blanket among reeds with

the sunlight white on the sand about them. Each time it's better and

better, isn't it, Sean? Ah! Sean stretched, arching his back and

spreading his arms. Sean, you do love me, don't you? Sure. Sure I

love you. I think you must love me to have done, - she hesitated to do

what you did. I just said so, didn't I? Sean's attention wandered to

the basket. He selected an apple and polished it on the blanket. Tell

me properly. Hold me tight and tell me. Hell, Anna, how many times

have I got to say it?

Sean bit on the apple. Did you bring any of your Mais shortbread?

It was coming on night when Sean got back to Theunis Kraal. He turned

his horse over to one of the grooms and went into the house. His body

tingled from the sun, and he felt the emptiness and sadness of

after-love, but it was a good sadness, like the sadness of old memories.

Garrick was in the dining-room, eating alone. Sean walked into the room

and Garrick looked up nervously. Hello, Garry. Sean smiled at him and

Garrick was momentarily dazzled by it. Sean sat down in the chair

beside him and punched him lightly on the arm.

Have you left any for me? His hatred was gone. There's plenty, Garrick

nodded eagerly. Try some of the potatoes, they're jolly good. They say

the Governor sent for your Pa while he was in Pietermaritzburg. Had him

alone for nearly two hours. Stephen Erasmus took the pipe out of his

mouth and spat down onto the railway lines. In his brown homespun and

veldschoen he did not look like a rich cattleman. Well, we don't need a

prophet to tell us what it was about, do we? No, sir, Sean agreed

vaguely. The train was late and Sean wasn't listening. He had an entry

in the stock register to explain to his father and he was mentally

rehearsing his speech. Ja, we know what it's about all right. Old

Erasmus put the pipe back between his teeth and spoke around it. It's

been two weeks now since the British Agent was recalled from Cetewayo's

kraal at Gingindhlovu. Liewe Here! in the old days we'd have called

out the Commando long ago. He packed his pipe, pushing down onto the

glowing tobacco with a calloused forefinger. Sean noticed that the

finger was twisted and scarred by the trigger-guards of a hundred heavy

rifles. You've never been on commando have you, Jong? No, sir. About

time you did then, said Erasmus, about bledy time.

Up on the escarpment the train whistled and Sean started guiltily.

There she is. Erasmus stood up from the bench on which they were

sitting and the station master came out from his office with a rolled

red flag in his hand. Sean felt his stomach sink slowly until it

stopped somewhere just above his knees.

The train ran in past them, whooshing steam and brakewhining. The

single passenger coach stopped precisely opposite the wooden platform.

Erasmus came forward and took Waite's hand. Goeie More, Steff. More,

Waite. They tell me you're the new chairman now. Well done, man.

Thanks. Did you get my telegram? Waite spoke in Afrikaans. Ja. I got