Today's Embrace (31 page)

Parnell splintered the awkward moment by suddenly bringing up the Matopos expedition.

“I realize we're all reluctant to talk about it, but there's little use in continuing this blindman-dumbman game. Look here, Uncle Julien. That Zulu savage isn't likely to forget that you're here in Bulawayo. And he has a stake in the Black Diamond.”

Every head turned toward Parnell. He made use of the moment in the lamplight by leaning closer to the table. “We've all heard the story of Dumaka and his sister, Jendaya?”

“Jendaya was the Christian convert, wasn't she?” The question came from the calm, quiet voice of Ryan Retford.

“And despised for it by Dumaka. Some think he killed her.”

“Not Dr. Jakob,” Darinda said. “He thinks she is still alive.”

“That may be, but Dumaka stole the family Black Diamond from ol' Uncle Henry in the stables at Capetown, and he won't surrender it to Uncle Julien now that it's finally buried with their king.”

“What do you mean ‘finally' ”? Peter asked dryly. “You're not suggesting that Dumaka and the tribe have legitimate rights to the Kimberly? I think Uncle Julien will contest the idea.” Peter looked past the candles down the table at Julien. The wick flames dragged and flickered.

It was unusual for her grandfather to remain this quiet in any discussion of the Black Diamond, and Darinda was curious as to why.

“Dumaka is dead.” Julien tasted his wine with utmost satisfaction.

The others looked at him. Parnell was clearly stunned by this abrupt announcement.

“But—” began Parnell futilely, then stopped.

“I know, I know, my boy,” Julien told him. “You thought he escaped
Lobengula's kraal the night we fought his impis. I did too. But Harry Whipple claims otherwise.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Captain Retford interjected in a moment of silence. “This is news to me. I wasn't riding with Jameson's Troopers in the war with Lobengula. I was north of here at the Zambezi. You say Dumaka is dead, sir?”

Clearly there was doubt in his voice, and Grandfather Julien smiled tolerantly and took another sip of his wine.

“I shall be pleased to explain.” And he smiled in his superior way at each of them around the table and began a lofty tale of adventure that he enjoyed only too well.

Most of the story Darinda had heard before, except the part about Harry Whipple and Dumaka. Though she disliked and did not fully trust Whipple, she listened.

“Lobengula and his warriors withdrew from Bulawayo, the site of his kraal. I entered Lobengula's hut in search of the family diamond, which had been stolen by Dumaka and protected by Lobengula's witch doctors. Dumaka, who was one of Lobengula's indunas, had fully intended for the diamond to be brought to the Matopos as a gift for the Umlimo; however, Lobengula had not surrendered it. This bothered Dumaka and became a point of tension between the two men for about a year. Lobengula was then told that Dumaka was disloyal. It was our luck to attack on the same night Lobengula intended to have the spell-casters ‘smell out Dumaka' for betrayal and witchcraft against Lobengula. Dumaka escaped but later returned to look for the Black when Parnell and I”—he gestured his wine glass toward Parnell—“were in Lobengula's hut searching. We had little time. Everything was going up in flames, but I knew I must find the Kimberly. Then Dumaka appeared with his assegai and would have killed me except for Parnell.”

Darinda was stunned.
Except for Parnell?

“Parnell shouted a warning. I was just able to turn and fire my gun. I missed Dumaka, but Harry Whipple heard the shot and came running.
Dumaka fled with Harry after him. With a handful of troopers, they tracked Dumaka to the Shangani River. Dumaka was hiding in the tall grasses when Harry spotted him. He fired. Dumaka was trapped. Rather than surrender he jumped into the river.” Julien finished his wine. He smacked his lips and smoothed his mustache, his hand flickering diamonds. “Unfortunately for Dumaka, the river houses some of the biggest crocodiles in these parts.”

The silence settled. Darinda stared at her plate, the food mostly uneaten and now cold. She pushed it away.

“And the Kimberly Black Diamond, sir?” Ryan Retford asked.

Julien set his glass down with a dull thud. “Lobengula managed to have it on him when he escaped. We hunted him, but he fled to the caves in the Matopos. He's dead. Buried with his precious things.” He looked up, his eye glimmering in the candle flame. “The diamond, my diamond, the family diamond is either on him, or in the sacred cave of their Umlimo. Regardless, it will be confiscated.”

Again silence fell.

Parnell cleared his throat. “Then, Uncle, what's this talk of the diamond being first stolen from the Zulu chief by either you or Carl van Buren many years ago?”

Julien's fist smacked the table. The dishes rattled.

“Grandfather!” Darinda said, alarmed.

“Rot!” Julien leaned toward Parnell, his fist still clenched. “I found the Black Diamond. Carl and I were partners in our own mine in Kimberly.”

“The day of the mine explosion?”

Julien's dark head whipped in Retford's direction. “Months earlier, I say, months earlier.” He leaned back and reached for his empty glass. Schubert, her grandfather's personal servant, produced the bottle and poured. Darinda saw Schubert's slim hand tremble.

Julien took a drink. “Now,” he said more calmly, “where was I, Darinda?”

Darinda felt cold and rubbed her arms. “We are ready for coffee now, Grandfather.”

“Ah yes … coffee … Schubert! Bring in the coffee!”

Darinda glanced about the table. Peter watched her grandfather. Parnell was staring at his plate, but Captain Retford was looking at her. There was a grave look of sympathy in his eyes. She knew then that he understood. Peter did too. Perhaps they all did. Sir Julien was not well emotionally. When she had first noticed it, she could not say for sure. It had come like a creeping vine upon a tree, growing, growing, until finally it was obvious the ivy was starting to take over and would soon smother the tree. Most of the time Grandfather was normal. But this was the first time that his emotions had overflowed in public. Perhaps all he needed was a rest. Somewhere away from Bulawayo.

“Ah, the Matopos,” Julien was saying heartily. “Beautiful hills. You'll get your chance to see them, Parnell, my boy. I'm only waiting for the right time to get the expedition together.” He looked at Captain Retford. “I'm still depending on you to help lead that expedition, Retford. I've a map I want you to look at after dinner in my office. You too, Parnell—Darinda. Peter? You'd better spend time encouraging little Arcilla.”

“I had planned on that.” Peter's tone was stilted. He looked strained and haggard. He pulled out his vest watch and looked at the time. “If you will all excuse me?” He stood and nodded toward Darinda, then Julien.

A short time later Julien also stood. He looked almost elated. He rubbed his palms together. “If everyone has finished their coffee, let's have a look at the Matopos map. It arrived with Anthony. A fine, detailed map.”

“Anthony?” Parnell asked, standing.

“Yes, he brought it to me. A precious gift. I shall miss Anthony. Almost like a son to me.” He looked at Darinda. “I suspect a charming young woman may slip into his position.” He smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder, then walked toward his office.

Parnell offered a wry, mocking smile. “So now it's Queen Darinda,” he said, looking after Julien. “Uncle's forgotten about our dear Boer cousin.”

Darinda, confused, turned and looked from Parnell to Ryan Retford, but Retford wore a military countenance. Then she realized Parnell was speaking of Heyden van Buren.

“I have my doubts about Dumaka's being dinner for the crocs. Ol' Harry Whipple will say anything to get in with Julien. But even if Dumaka was consumed, Heyden's still likely to be sneaking from tree to tree watching us. Gives one the jim-jams.”

Retford showed immediate interest. “Heyden van Buren,” he stated. “I wonder …”

Darinda was curious. “Why do you think he'll come here?” she asked Parnell.

“Think, my beauty. He has kin here in Bulawayo, doesn't he?”

She had forgotten that. Both Jakob and Heyden were cousins of Katie, Evy Chantry's mother. Carl van Buren, whom her grandfather had mentioned at dinner, was Evy's grandfather. Evy, Darinda decided uneasily, had quite a claim on the family diamonds.

“Dr. Jakob will never hide Heyden,” Retford said. “Heyden's wanted for murder. Jakob knows that. If he shows up, I think Dr. Jakob will contact me.”

She noticed he'd said contact
me
, not Harry Whipple.

The mention of murder brought the chill back.

“Heyden murdered my uncle Henry,” Parnell told Retford. “Then there's Evy. She's married to my brother Rogan. Sorry I missed that wedding … Anyway, Heyden's responsible for Evy's fall. Rogan says she has a spinal problem now.”

Darinda hadn't known about her injury, and her sympathy sprouted. Would she like Evy?

“Then I hope Heyden shows up in Bulawayo,” Captain Retford said. “I would like the privilege of arresting him.”

“You'll have some competition, there.” Parnell wore a smirky smile
as he looked thoughtful. “You know Rogan—he has his eye set on catching Heyden.”

Retford nodded. “Derwent sets a great store in Rogan Chantry. What I remember about Rogan, I can appreciate. Does Sir Julien know your brother and Mrs. Chantry are on their way here?”

Parnell smiled. Darinda thought she could see a touch of satisfaction on his face.

“No. Actually I've done all I could to keep Rogan away from Uncle Julien, and since we know what Rogan's like when his mind is settled on something, we should see a jolly time here in Bulawayo when he arrives.”

Suddenly someone screamed—

Darinda gasped and turned toward Grandfather Julien's office. A tense and quivering awareness of danger choked her.

“What—” Captain Retford pushed past them and ran ahead into the common room.

“That was Uncle Julien,” Parnell breathed.

Darinda ran after Retford. She heard Parnell quickly behind her.

As she entered the common room, which was full of shadows and weaving displays of light on the walls, Peter appeared at the top of the steps. “Was that a scream I heard?”

Parnell stopped and looked up. “Julien!”

“Julien!” Peter repeated in a stunned voice. He clambered down the steps.

Darinda reached the office door, which stood ajar. She pushed through, but Retford stepped in front of her to block her way. His flinty eyes told her to stay out. She shoved against him. “Let me in—”

“It's all right, calm down. He's alive, just frightened.”

“What?” Her eyes searched his, bewildered, yet relieved. She then caught a glimpse of her grandfather standing in the middle of his office as if in a trance, his face reflecting stark fear. Darinda pushed past Retford.

“Grandfather! What—?” Darinda neared his desk, her skin taut with uncertainty.

Her eyes transfixed on a spot of blood on Julien's desk … then many
spots. Her eyes followed them like pebbles on a trail. She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. A slaughtered chicken hung from the ceiling. Beneath, on the desk, were bones and other hideous things that made her turn her head. Retford took her arm and drew her aside.

“Witchcraft,” he explained in a low voice. “The various ngangas use them. This looks like the work of a spellcaster.”

Peter rushed in, alarmed, was met by the odious scene, then stopped and stared.

“Who did this? A bunch of absurd nonsense!” Peter said with disgust. He strode to the open door and shouted in the Sindebele language. A moment later one of the young Ndebele guards working for Harry Whipple came running. He stopped in the doorway and saluted Peter. Then he saw Retford and saluted again.

Peter spoke brusquely, pointing and glowering. The young man's eyes widened, and he backed away, shaking his head, speaking rapidly.

Captain Retford left Darinda and walked to Julien's desk.

“He says he knows nothing about this,” Peter told Retford.

Darinda recovered from her initial shock and went to her grandfather. The consternation on his tanned face frightened her more than the demonic ritual. This was the first time she'd witnessed fear carved upon his face. His lips were pulled back, baring his teeth in a wolfish display. His one eye had sharpened its gaze like a bird of prey, fixed on the scattered bones on his desk. For a moment she thought he was going to sway on his feet.

Peter looked surprised by Julien's reaction. Gripping his arm, Peter steered him to a chair. He went to the doorway and called into the common room: “Detlev, tell Schubert to bring Sir Julien brandy!”

“Yes sir.”

The blond-headed Dutch guard returned with Julien's valet. Schubert was pale and shaking as he fumbled with a decanter he'd brought.

“The Umlimo,” Julien rasped, taking the jigger of brandy from Peter's hand. “A nganga has done this. The spellcasting nganga's been sent here—to—me—”

“Dashed nonsense, Uncle Julien,” Peter clipped. “Pull yourself together, man. Surely you don't give credence to this cauldron of mishmash? Here, now, drink that brandy. You're in shock.”

“Peter's right, Grandfather. Pay no heed,” she said. “It's like an awful joke someone has played on you.”

“Bones, sir.” Detlev was at the desk with Captain Retford.

“They're
hakata
bones, divining bones,” Retford said. “If Dr. Jakob were here, he could explain better than I. He's informed about this divination. While he's taught the Ndebele about the redeemer Christ, he's learned some of their occultist entrapments.”

“Hakata bones?” Darinda repeated. “They look like wood.”