She pulled her horse around behind his as he moved alongside Victor.
‘Wasn’t there a fifth musketeer?’ Stratton asked.
‘That was the king - not the king’s daughter,’Victor said, not amused.
‘I don’t think this group has quite finished growing,’ Stratton said, looking through the trees on the sloping ground above them.
Victor followed his gaze. Kebowa and Mohesiwa were running, carrying their bows and a small leather back-pouch each. They were dressed as normal, wearing their knee-length trousers, with their long black hair tied back.
‘I never told them I was going anywhere but they always seem to know,’ Victor said, impressed. ‘Yoinakuwa’s not with them. He must know we’re going a good distance. Is that okay, them coming along?’
‘Why not?’ Stratton said.
Victor rode ahead to greet them as they came down to the track.
Stratton looked back at Louisa. She looked solemn and held his gaze only for a second. He wondered if he had seen a trace of fear in her eyes. Despite the dangers, he could not help feeling pleased that she was there.
The group rode off the plateau, using goat tracks and stream beds, all the time heading due west. The Indians decided that one of them would remain near the party while the other scouted ahead. They often swapped places. The brothers were very similar yet Stratton had begun to notice slight differences between them. Mohesiwa appeared dominant although the two discussed everything. He found their dedication to the revolution bizarre in a way. They did not seek any payment except food. They didn’t stand to benefit much no matter what heroics they performed. The only explanation that Stratton could think of was that they now felt they belonged to a community once again. Having lost their own tribe they had found another.
The group went easy on the horses because of the time they were expected to travel with little rest. It was fifty-five kilometres to the ambush site as the crow flew but the map did not show any contours so the real distance was difficult to estimate. Once off the plateau the terrain became rocky, with patches of open ground where Stratton felt exposed. Yet crossing them was a calculated risk if they were going to make it to the ambush site on time. According to the GPS they were making good progress, using the most direct route. The map showed some woodland further south, but it would take much longer that way. Stratton was relieved when eventually they entered primary jungle and visibility could be measured in metres rather than kilometres.
On the journey he learned why David and Bernard had been chosen for the operation, despite David’s injuries. Victor told him how they knew the western provinces, since both of them were from there. But there was more to it than that. Although David’s immediate family were gone he had other relatives in the area, as did Bernard.The mission was even more important to them yet neither young man had said a word. Stratton realised that the more he learned about his companions, the more he was gradually becoming involved, whether he liked it or not.
The first day went slowly. A coral snake spooked the burros during a water stop. Mohesiwa deftly trapped the venomous creature’s head, using the end of his bow. He picked it up, walked it a safe distance away from the group and released it. By nightfall Stratton had a better estimate of their speed. As long as the ground ahead was similar, which David assured him it was, and they continued through the night, they could rest the following day. Then if they waited until last light before moving they would make the ambush site around midnight, giving them a few hours of darkness in which to prepare.
The going was much slower and more dangerous in the dark. The trees looked black, and on some of them barbs grew. They pointed out from trunks and branches at odd angles and looked like spears. A few had grown to several feet in length and had tips as sharp as javelins. Travellers had been known to impale themselves. Poisonous manchineel trees also grew in the forest. Simply touching them or breaking a leaf and releasing their sap could cause lesions. Slashing a branch with a machete would create a spurt of poisonous milky liquid that could blind someone if it struck their eyes.
By midnight the moon shone brightly, lighting their way through the rare patches of open ground, but under the forest canopy it stayed black. At one point the cover was so dense that they had to dismount and lead the horses in single file. David was clearly not fit enough to spend an entire day on a horse and he seemed to be in great discomfort much of the time though he did not complain. The walking came as a relief to him. Victor tripped over several times and, cursing heavily after one particu larly heavy fall where he bashed his head and almost lost his hat, he got out his flashlight. Stratton told him to put it away, explaining that soldiers used lights only to check maps, make signals and to figure out how to dismantle a booby trap if it could not wait until daytime. Victor put the light away, muttering something about not being in the British Army.
As dawn broke through behind them they arrived at the edge of the wood and Stratton called an end to the march.They removed the equipment and saddles from the animals and provided them with food and water where they were tethered. They did not light a fire, since it could easily have been spotted by patrolling troops. Everyone was too tired anyway and set about preparing their beds.
Louisa came over to ask Stratton if she could go for a pee. He looked at her poker-faced as if considering it but could not help breaking into a grin. ‘Get out of here,’ he told her. ‘Just don’t go too far.’
Victor cleared away the fallen twigs and leaves from his chosen spot, placed a blanket on the ground, lay on it and shuffled around to smooth the surface as much as possible before draping his poncho over him. David and Bernard prepared their sleeping places in much the same way but with less fuss.
Stratton looked for the Indians, wondering what their sleeping arrangements might be, but they had disappeared. He pulled a bundle from his pack and unravelled a thin Gore-Tex sleeping bag designed for the jungle, cleared a selected spot and rolled it out. Without removing his boots he pushed his way inside and rested his head on his pack, his assault rifle beside him.
Footsteps signalled Louisa’s return and Stratton watched her prepare her bed a few metres away. Holding her blanket, she took a moment to work out the best way to go about setting up the bed. A glance at Stratton’s revealed no lesson to be learned there and she looked at Victor’s. She spread the blanket on the ground and searched inside her pack for a poncho, which, it quickly became evident, she had forgotten to bring. Unperturbed, she lay down and pulled the blanket on top of her, resting her head on her pack and closing her eyes as if blissfully comfortable.
The Indians returned, carrying several large banana leaves as well as some of the tree’s fruit and quickly set about erecting a small shelter against a tree. Stratton suspected they had some inkling about the weather and studied the small patches of sky that he could see through the forest roof. He couldn’t see any stars. He sat up and unravelled a green lightweight nylon canopy from a pocket of his pack. It was a large rectangle with string attached to the corner and mid-length eyelets.
He climbed out of his sleeping bag and as he tied the first corner to a tree a tapping sound from above signalled rain hitting the jungle foliage. He secured the other three corners and a couple of the sides, pulling the canopy as tight as a drum. The final touch was to secure the line attached to the centre of the canopy which he tossed over a branch directly above, pulling it tight to give the canopy a pointed roof. The rain started to drip from the highest branches onto the forest floor, making a drumming sound that gradu - ally became louder and faster when it hit Stratton’s cover.