‘Hennerik, you and Kupido search the barn. Sanna, check the huts and everyone’s clothes for anything that looks strange or out of place. You look around the grounds,’ he said to David. ‘Roeloff and I will check in here.’
There was no word between father and son as they examined the straw and the surrounding area for evidence. Roeloff was outraged by his father’s readiness to accuse him. Did he not know his own children? Had he no inkling of their character? He found nothing in the stall, and turned his attention to the stallion. Boerhaan’s coat glistened like alabaster in the morning light. He drew the eyelids over the open eyes, wrapping an old rag around the horse’s head to keep them closed. The crusted blood and the presence of insects in the nose and ears told him Boerhaan had been dead a long time.
‘He was killed at least eight hours ago.’
There was a commotion behind them, and they turned to see Hennerik in the doorway, holding something. The other Koi-na hovered nervously in the background.
‘We found it in the barn, Grootbaas.’
‘What is it?’
Hennerik put it down at his feet.
Willem looked at the bundle. It was the rag they used for the horses, caked with blood, wrapped around something.
‘What’s going on?’ David came up.
‘Open it,’ Willem Kloot instructed Hennerik.
Hennerik kneeled down and unrolled the rag. There was a murmur of disbelief—everyone knew what it was and who it belonged to. A soft sigh escaped Willem’s lips.
‘It’s the knife Oupa Harman gave you for your twelfth birthday, Roff.’
Roeloff looked at it. He couldn’t believe it.
‘David did this, Pa.’
‘How dare you!’ Willem struck him across the face. ‘To lie and then blame someone else!’
Roeloff got up from behind the stallion where he’d fallen when he lost his balance after his father’s blow. There was blood on his lip, the horse’s blood on his hands.
‘Tell Pa why you did it!’ he shouted at David.
‘You’re drunk. Why would I kill his horse?’
‘My horse,’ Roeloff charged. ‘You killed him because you saw me with Soela! And left the knife, so I would know you saw us, and so Pa would think it was I who did it!’
David punched him in the face.
Roeloff grabbed the whip from the hook on the wall and snapped it over his head. ‘You want a fight?’
There wasn’t enough room in the barn, and the whip caught David on the cheek.
David felt at the blood on his face. ‘Bastard!’ He came straight for Roeloff, the momentum hurtling both of them to the ground.
‘Stop it!’ Willem roared. ‘It’s your knife with the stallion’s blood on it, Roeloff! What more proof do I need?’
‘It’s my knife, but I didn’t do it!’
‘I entrusted him to you. I asked you to look after him.’
The words were a death knell. Then it came to Roeloff, how to prove he hadn’t done it.
‘Why don’t you check our boots? That should tell you who was in here last night.’
‘Get their boots from the house, Hennerik. Hurry!’
‘Tell him, Hennerik,’ Sanna elbowed her husband in the ribs.
‘Tell me what?’
Hennerik looked at David. David glowered back. ‘Nothing, Grootbaas,’ Hennerik said, and ran up to the house.
Twa had heard the commotion and came up. He nodded sadly when he saw the stallion in a pool of blood. ‘There will be trouble now.’
‘Did you hear anything last night, Twa?’ Roeloff asked him. He knew it was pointless to ask. Twa, exhausted after the journey, had gone straight to his hut after eating the plate of food he had received from Sanna. Roeloff had also given him a mug of brandy.
‘I didn’t hear anything.’ Twa was almost embarrassed to admit it. Usually he was the one who sat at the fire all night and hardly slept.
Hennerik came back with the boots and placed them on the ground in front of Willem. Roeloff knew from the way Hennerik avoided his eyes, that something was wrong.
Willem picked up David’s boots and inspected them closely. Except for some dried dirt in the cracks, there was nothing suspicious. Then he picked up Roeloff’s boots. A look passed between them that Roeloff would never forget.
‘It’s better you take your things and get off Kloot’s Nek,’ Willem said.
Roeloff picked up the boots his father had dropped to the ground. There was blood on the soles.
‘I didn’t do this, Pa.’
