When The Lion Feeds Part 49

Beneath Katrina's name, in her carefully rounded writing, the ink still freshly blue, she had filled in the date of death.

The page magnified slowly in front of his eyes until it filled the whole field of his vision. There was a rushing sound in his ears, the sound of a river in flood, but above it he heard voices, different voices.

Let's go, Sean, it looks like a grave! But more than anything she needs love The earth can't have swallowed her.

And his own voice, If it's not too late, if it's not too late The morning light was gathering strength as he reached the ruins of the old Candy Deep office block. He left his horse and ran through the gra.s.s towards the mine dump.

The wind was small and cold; it moved the tops of the gra.s.s and went on to where Katrina's green shawl was caught on the barbed wire fence that ringed the shaft. In the wind the shawl flapped its wings like a big green bird of prey.

Sean reached the fence and looked down into the mouth of the shaft. At one place the gra.s.s had been torn away from the edge as though someone had s.n.a.t.c.hed at it as they fell.

Sean loosed the shawl from the spikes of the barbed wire, he balled the heavy material in his fists, then he held it out over the shaft and let it drop. It spread out as it floated down into the blackness, and it was the bright green of Katrina's eyes. Why? whispered Sean. rWhy have you done this to us, my fancy? He turned away and walked back to his horse, stumbling carelessly in the rough footing.

Mbejane was waiting for him in the hotel suite.

Get the carriage, Sean told him. The Nkosikazi -TGet the carriage, Sean repeated.

Sean carried Dirk downstairs. He paid his bill at the reception desk and went out to where MbeJane had the carriage ready. He climbed up into it and held Dirk on his lap.

Drive back to Pretoria, Sean said.

Where's Mummy? Dirk demanded. She's not coming with us. Are we going alone? Dirk insisted and Sean nodded wearily. Yes, Dirk, we are going alone. Is Mummy coming just now? No, Dirk. No, she's not. It was finished, Sean thought. It was all over, all the dreams and the laughter and the love, He was too numbed to feel the pain yet, it would come later. Why are you squeezing me so hard, Daddy? Sean slackened his grip and looked down at the child on his lap. it was not finished, he realized; it was only a new beginning.

But first I must have time for this to heal. time, and a quiet place to he up with this wound. The wagons are waiting and I must go back into the wilderness.

Perhaps after another year I will have healed sufficiently to start again, to go back to Lady-burg with my son, back to Lady-burg, and to Ada and to Garry, he thought. Then suddenly and sickeningly he felt the pain again, and the deep raw ache of it frightened him. Please G.o.d, prayed Sean who had never prayed before, please G.o.d give me the strength to endure it. Are you going to cry, Daddy? You look like you're going to cry. Dirk was watching Sean's face with solemn curiosity. Sean pulled the child's head gently against his shoulder and held it there.

If tears could pay both our debts, thought Sean, if with my tears I could buy for you an indulgence from all pain, if by weeping now I could do all your weeping for you then I would cry until my eyes were washed away. No, Dirk, he answered. I am not going to cry, crying never helps very much. And Mbejane took them to where the wagons waited at Pretoria.

The End

Wilbur Smith was born in Central Africa in 1933. He was educated at Michaelhouse and Rhodes University.

He became a full-time writer in 1964 after the successful publication of When the Lion Feeds, and has since written twenty novels, meticulously researched on his numerous expeditions worldwide.

He normally travels from November to February, often spending a month skiing in Switzerland, and visiting Australia and New Zealand for sea fishing. During his summer break, he visits environments as diverse as Alaska and the dwindling wilderness of the African interior. He has an abiding concern for the peoples and wildlife of his native continent, an interest strongly reflected in his novels.

He is married to Danielle, to whom his last nineteen books have been dedicated.

The End

The novels of Wilbur Smith

The Courtney Novels:

When the Lion Feeds

The Sound of Thunder

A Sparrow Falls

The Burning Sh.o.r.e

Power of the Sword

Rage

A Time to Die

The Ballantyne novels:

A Falcon Flies

Men of Men

The Angels Weep

The Leopard Hunts in Darkness

Also:

The Dark of the Sun

Shout at the Devil

Gold Mine

The Diamond Hunters