‘I’m nervous about seeing him after all this time. I’ve missed him, more than I’ve wanted to admit to myself. I always put him out of my thoughts, but now that we’re so close, I can’t wait. I hope nothing’s happened. But, are you ready, Neeltje? We will be in Leekenberg tomorrow. Once we cross this rant, we’re at Kloot’s Nek.’

‘I’m ready. I want to see the place where you were born. How will you explain Harman?’

‘Harman be who he is. Zokho’s blood runs in him.’

Hearing him say the name gave her a strange feeling. The girl’s presence would linger forever in the slanted eyes of her son and the blue mark on his back, which was present in some Koi-na and Sonqua children. There was no difference between the children in her affections. Beatrix had come from her own flesh, but Harman had come to her first, naked and abandoned, a part of the man she loved.

‘I was only thinking of you, if they asked.’

‘If they ask, they’ll get answers. Where’s Twa? He’s been gone a long time.’

‘Isn’t this where he comes from?’

‘The Sonqua have no settled place, they travel up and down. But his people gathered annually at the big river up north. I haven’t been there myself. When we left Kloot’s Nek he wanted us to go there, but I didn’t want to. Just imagine, Neeltje, if I had, we wouldn’t have met. A lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Even Harman wouldn’t be here.’

‘So, you’re pleased with your own wisdom.’

‘Perhaps. Behind those mountains over there, that’s where Twa’s camp was wiped out. The neighbour, Jan Joubert’s farm is right under it.’

Harman poked his head through the flap of the wagon.

‘Ta?’

‘Twa’s not here,’ Roeloff said in !Khomani.

Harman retreated.

‘He’ll climb over all those boxes if he’s not tired. We should let him sit with us a while. He feels left out, in the wagon by himself.’

‘Bring him out.’ Neeltje moved her nipple from the sleeping infant’s mouth and covered herself up.

‘Harman?’

Harman’s face appeared through the crack. He knew by the tone of his father’s voice that he was coming out of the wagon to sit with them.

‘Pa?’

‘You want to come out?’

Before Roeloff could do anything, Harman was up on his stocky legs and had jumped down into his father’s arms. He was a big boy for eighteen months, and Roeloff staggered under the impact.

‘Easy,’ Roeloff said, settling the boy between his legs at the fire. ‘Do you want to break your father’s back?’ His son was a mischievous rascal with the wheat colour hardiness of a Kloot, his slanted eyes giving him a slightly oriental appearance. Restless for adventure, the high point of his day was when Twa fetched him in the mornings to go out into the veld. Twa didn’t take the best care of Harman’s appearance, often returning him in the evening, dirty and dishevelled, but Harman was happy and content, carrying caterpillars and tortoises.

A short while later he was fast asleep between his father’s legs and Roeloff got up into the wagon to put him to bed.

Neeltje got up with the baby.

‘I’m turning in. We have to be up early in the morning. What do you think’s happened to Twa?’

‘I don’t know. Otto’s ointment isn’t helping that leg. I’ll sit here and wait for him.’

‘Don’t come to bed too late.’

But Roeloff didn’t get to bed at all. All night he sat with his back to the wheel of the wagon waiting for Twa, dozing off intermittently. Drawing nearer to the Hantam he had felt the change in Twa. His wrinkled face, usually pleated in a smile, was pinched and shrunken, and there was little laughter in the black eyes.

At dawn Roeloff felt his presence and saw the figure come limping over the veld. Something in his manner told him all was not well.

‘You are up, Kudu.’

‘I waited for you.’

Twa offered no explanation. There were coals on the fire, and he stirred them with his foot and sat down.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘The ghosts of my family. That’s where it happened, over there. When the horses came and the guns smoked and my wife and unborn child and all the rest of my people were killed.’

It came out in a torrent: his life with the Ein-qua, their days beside the big river up north. Twa had told many stories in his time, but never before had he talked this much about his family. Roeloff looked at the little hunter. He seemed suddenly very old. A wife? A child not yet born? He’d never thought of Twa like that, in the role of a married man, never heard him talk with such passion. There was nothing mad or devilish about him now.

‘We came from up there to look for ostrich and springbok. Some of our people were here, behind the rante. If you go there now, you’ll see the smoke of their fires on the cave walls. I had taken a wife, my child was coming. I had a sister, young like you were when your father threw you out. We lived by the mercy of the gods, and only took from the white man when there was nothing to eat. We didn’t kill people.’ He lowered his eyes to the dying coals. ‘We were sleeping at our fires when the riders came and shot us where we lay with our heads to the ground.’

Roeloff said nothing.

‘They got me in the leg. They thought they’d killed me. I played dead. With my eyes closed, I listened. There were only three of them, but they reminded me of hyenas at a kill.’ He paused, and looked up from the fire. ‘You’re one of them, Kudu. I’ve wiped your behind, you’ve filled my belly. Why did they do it?’

Roeloff couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes.

‘Fear, Twa. Of the unknown. Sonqua taking their animals. Not enough land.’

‘This land stretches to the end of the earth. It’s big enough for all.’

‘Big enough for the Sonqua. The Sonqua have no animals. A farmer without grazing land will perish.’

‘His animals take precedence over people?’

‘They take precedence over everything, even his family. Without it, he has nothing, his family dies.’

Twa took out his tobacco and continued talking.

‘When they left, I counted the bodies. My sister, Shy Little Tortoise, was gone. They’d taken her. We’d heard from others that when the white man killed the Sonqua, he took their children to work on the farms.’

Roeloff lowered his gaze so Twa wouldn’t see the shame in his eyes. That was exactly what his father and Jan Joubert had done to Zokho.

‘So, when I came to your grandfather’s farm, I felt I owed him something for saving my life, but knew I wouldn’t rest till I found Shy Little Tortoise. When I disappeared from time to time, I was looking for her. The years went by, and I looked and looked, but never found Shy Little Tortoise.’ He paused for a moment to stuff his pipe. ‘Then, one day, you will remember the day, Zokho came to Kloot’s Nek and I thought the gods were playing cruel tricks on me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She had the same slanted eyes and colouring as my sister.’