In a shocking flash, dozens of dark shapes shot up into view each side. They resolved into tall warriors, each with an assegai and a shield, clad in nothing but a loin-cloth with decorative tufts around their ankles and a tall headdress. Their fierce eyes glittered as they brandished their weapons.
Thérèse and her men immediately threw their arms wide, palms open and upwards in a gesture of peace, and one of her men spoke in a short, strangely guttural clicking language. The assegais were withdrawn but the warriors did not fall back; this was now an escort and they took position on each side as the trek resumed.
Renzi felt their eyes as they loped along next to him, their arrogance of manhood and ferocity of purpose fearsome. These were quite different from the harmless Khoikhoi of Cape Town, and if they were enabled to sweep in on the settlements, they would stir up an appalling tide of war. Baird could then do no other than send every soldier he possessed to stem the flood.
The river was now a broad, barely moving calm expanse, curving among the flat scrub and an occasional tree. They passed a rise, along its top many more warriors watching their progress. From somewhere in the interior rose an immense ululation, a swelling sound of tribal song that could only have come from countless thousands of throats. It beat in on Renzi.
Then, abruptly, they rounded a bend and ahead Renzi saw a sizeable native-style kraal stockade fronting the river, the roofs of huts inside visible and around it patrols of Xhosa warriors. Thérèse spurred on eagerly past Renzi and gave a shout, which was answered from inside. Several men came out swiftly from a far entrance. She threw herself at one whose reaction could only have been that of a fond father.
Renzi straightened, trying to ignore his aching limbs as he went forward.
‘Good God, Thérèse! Who’s this?’ The man was tall, with a neatly clipped beard, and carried himself with effortless dignity. The eyes were intelligent but concerned.
‘I’ll tell you about it later, Father. First there’s—’
‘No. You’ll tell me about it now, my child.’
She sighed. ‘He saw me at the Reinke farmstead. I found out he knew too much and thought to bring him to you. He says he knows why the rising will fail.’
‘Cut him loose,’ he said firmly. ‘Here we may fear no one man.’
He turned to Renzi. ‘Why, sir, my daughter failing in her duty of politeness, therefore I must ask you to introduce yourself, if you will.’
Renzi returned his gaze with composure. ‘Do I have the honour of addressing the Baron de Caradeuc? Then, sir, be introduced to Nicholas Renzi, colonial secretary of Cape Colony.’ His elegant bow would not have been out of place in the court of the late king and was returned instinctively.
‘An . . . unexpected honour, M’sieur.’ Clearly taken aback, he flashed a troubled glance at Thérèse. ‘However, it does leave me in some degree of perplexity as being how to . . . entertain such a notable personage.’
‘He can’t be set free now, Father.’
‘And as we have not the means to ensure his, er, security while in the process of setting our plan in train, it does rather set us a problem.’ His apologetic smile might have been seen on a parson regretting upset picnic plans.
Renzi knew he had to get through to the baron if he had any hope of getting out alive. But the man was a mystery – he was known to be a royalist, a refugee from the chaos of revolution, and here he was, patently of noble birth, with the delicacy of manners and graces of the ancien régime, in Africa fomenting a native rebellion.
‘Sir, it would gratify me much to understand how a gentleman of courtliness and discernment is to be found in such distant parts as this. Do you not pine after the salons and civilities of la belle France? The home of Voltaire and Montesquieu both – the mists on the Seine from the Pont Marie, the bookshops on the rue St Honoré even?’
‘Why, I do believe you are acquainted with Paris, sir!’
‘Not so long since I had the felicity of attending the Institut as guest of M’sieur La Place.’
‘Then you are a scholar indeed!’ the baron exclaimed, in wonderment.
‘In the meanest way, sir. I have pretensions at a theory of the human condition that require extensive travel of which—’
‘He lies!’ Thérèse spat. ‘I know him for a certainty as a humble clerk of sorts from off one of the navy boats. He must have bribed his way to the attention of their ruling general to get his grand post.’
‘Possibly. A gentleman of learning certainly,’ the baron mused, stroking his chin.
‘And one who is in some mystification as to the meaning of your present actions, sir,’ Renzi said civilly.
‘I believe, Mr Secretary, you are referring to this current enterprise. There is no mystery, sir. I’m engaged in the raising of the Xhosa tribe to fall upon the eastern frontier, thereby attracting the military forces of the English occupier while Cape Town is retaken. As you may imagine, I have some considerable interest in what you have to say concerning why it must fail.’
Renzi swallowed. ‘None the less it exercises me considerably why a distinguished member of the noblesse does so support the Emperor Bonaparte in such a forward manner.’
The baron winced. ‘I abhor the upstart Corsican. Probably more than you do! He has the manners of the banditti and the instincts of a wolf and while he tears down the old order he replaces it with his own aristocracy. A vainglorious and contemptible creature.’
‘Then why—’
‘There are principles of honour and destiny that must rise above all else. At the present time the country is ruled by that scoundrel but will not be always. There will come a time when we emerge from this state of eternal war into a bounteous peace. Then, sir, the age of empires will begin and undoubtedly whosoever has possession of the fulcrums of trade will inevitably accrue the most glorious and enduring dominion.
‘France shall no longer be denied her place as queen of nations, her right by virtue of culture and civilisation! No more in the shadow of other more thrusting realms, she shall step forward to take her role as leader and exemplar, ruling over the greatest empire the world has yet seen.’
‘And for this you—’
‘For this I abjure my title and honours, for what are they compared to the glory of one’s country? For this, too, I have invested my entire fortune in the equipping of the expedition, for nothing but celerity and swiftness of purpose will secure the prize.’
‘I honour you for it, sir,’ Renzi said sincerely. The baron was a patriot of the highest order and had dedicated himself and his wealth to the service of his motherland. And he was impeccably correct in his logic: whoever ended the war with the most possessions would dominate trade and world empires – and he must be aware that the British were at that moment, thanks to their navy, beginning to detach French possessions and adding more of their own. A strike back now, before military reinforcements and the apparatus of permanent rule could arrive from England, was their only chance. He was privately funding the uprising to overcome delay and bureaucracy, yet had been able to arrange in time the necessary deadly counter-stroke – a direct assault by some powerful squadron already at sea.
The baron gave Renzi a curious look. ‘And now you will infinitely oblige me with your views on why we must inevitably fail.’
‘I vow I shall tell you everything I know, but find it necessary to learn further of your preparations, sir, it bearing so on the elements of success.’ What was he reading of the man? The stakes were higher now by far than his personal survival.
The baron beckoned graciously. ‘Then I shall be your guide and show you our little enterprise.’
Walking side by side they began their tour within the kraal. ‘A contemptible little fortification, you’ll agree, but then it’s for a temporary purpose and, besides, what have we to fear, no one knowing of our existence?’