… Believe me, M’Bogo, it will take a strong man to win her heart.’
Next they moved on to the latest developments on the Lusima estate. Though he seldom ventured down from his mountaintop, and the estate covered the best part of two hundred square miles, Manyoro still knew everything that happened on it and there was never any need for Leon to discipline any of the herders. In the extremely rare event that one of them did anything wrong, Manyoro would already have dealt with the matter himself before Leon even heard about it.
‘So, Bwana, what brings you here today?’ Manyoro asked, calling Leon ‘Master’ not out of servility, but respect.
‘I come to you with a request, one that I hope you will find of interest,’ Leon said. ‘I dined at Bwana Hay’s house two nights ago, and talked to a man by the name of de Lancey. He was disparaging of the Masai. He said they were lesser men, inferior to his own white tribe.’
‘Then this man is no more than a baboon, and a very stupid baboon at that. He should count himself lucky that I did not hear him say those words.’
‘Indeed he should,’ Leon agreed. ‘I, however, know the truth. So I assured him that my Masai brothers were proud warriors who have ruled this land since time began and I suggested a way in which I could prove their strength.’
Manyoro grinned. ‘Will there be a fight? It has been too long since my assegai tasted blood. It keeps moaning to me, “Give me blood, for I am thirsty!”’
Leon fought back laughter as he adopted a pose of outrage at such rebellious sentiments. ‘Sergeant Manyoro! Have you forgotten the oath you swore to defend my people? Have you become a rebellious Nandi, slithering like a snake upon the dirt?’
Manyoro’s broad shoulders broke into a regretful shrug. ‘You are right, M’Bogo, I have given my word and I will stand by it. But please, never compare me to a Nandi, not even in jest. They are the lowest people on all the earth.’
‘I apologize,’ said Leon, reflecting that it had been a Nandi arrow, stuck in Manyoro’s leg, that had first brought him here to Lusima. ‘But let me assure you that neither you nor any of your people will be called upon to fight anyone. The morani will keep their blades sheathed. All I need is a man who can run.’
Leon began to explain what he had in mind. But Manyoro’s reaction was not what he expected. Far from being amused by the challenge, still less inspired by it, he seemed offended.
‘M’Bogo, forgive me, but I am insulted to the depth of my soul. Why did you only pit three whites against one Masai? It is too easy. Ten would be more of a contest, possibly twenty.’
‘Now you insult my people, Manyoro. We are not all weak or lacking in endurance. I carried you on my back for thirty miles to this very mountain, when you were too badly wounded to walk.’
Manyoro nodded. ‘That is true. But you are not like the others. You have the strength of the buffalo himself. That is why my people consider you our equal.’
‘I am proud to bear that honour,’ Leon replied. ‘That is why I have set this challenge, so that the Masai should receive the respect that they are due.’
‘For one day maybe,’ said Manyoro, and suddenly Leon heard the voice of a proud man whose people were reduced to second-class status in their own land. ‘But that is better than no days at all. Who will de Lancey find to run against my man?’
‘No one that you need fear, but some whom you should respect,’ Leon replied. ‘De Lancey is putting the word out. He’ll round up some pretty tough customers, don’t you worry about that. We’re not all bone-idle idiots from Happy Valley, you know.’
Manyoro thought for a moment then asked, ‘You say you will lose ten thousand pounds if De Lancey’s man wins?’
‘Yes.’
‘So if my man wins he will save you that amount. He will have done all the work. Should he not receive some reward for his efforts?’
Leon inwardly winced. Brother or no brother, Manyoro was always determined to wring the most out of any negotiation. ‘Good point,’ he conceded. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘A man who performs a great feat should have a wife to mark his triumph.’
‘Sadly, I can’t provide one of those.’
‘Then give him the cattle with which he will attract a bride and make her father think, “This is a man who deserves to have my daughter beside him.”’
‘Very well, I will give him a bull and three cows …’ Leon could tell from Manyoro’s face that the offer, which he had thought generous to a fault, had somehow fallen short of the mark. And then it occurred to him and he wondered how he could ever have been so stupid as he said, ‘And a bull and five cows to you too, though heaven knows your herds are already so mighty that you will not notice a few more.’
Manyoro smiled with delight, both at the offer and the fact that Leon had understood that it should be made. ‘Ah, M’Bogo, a Masai always notices a new cow. You, of all men, should know that!’
‘So, can I count on you to bring one of your best men to the polo fields?’
‘You can count on me to bring a man. And you can count on him to win your bet. But whether he will be my best man, that I cannot say. My best might feel that this challenge is too easy. But fear not, M’Bogo, your money is safe … and so are my five cows and my bull besides. Now, come with me. You know there is someone else here who would rage like thunder if you should leave without seeing her.’
‘You know that I would never dream of doing that.’
‘Then come …’
Like an empress on her throne, Lusima Mama was sitting on a chair cut into the stump of what must once have been a towering tree. She rose as she saw Leon, her face wreathed in a loving, maternal smile, for since Leon had saved her son Manyoro’s life he had become a son to her too.
Leon had no knowledge of Lusima’s exact age, but she could not be less than seventy and was probably a good many years older than that. Twenty years ago she had seemed entirely impervious to the passing of time, but not even her wizardry could keep it at bay forever. Her hair was white now, her bare breasts a little saggier and less full than they had once been and her tattooed belly was just a fraction softer, the skin like crepe paper. But she held herself as tall and straight as ever, her walk still possessed a feline grace, and though there were lines around her dark eyes, their gaze could still look right through Leon, into the very depths of his soul.
A sense of great peace and security came over him, as it always did when he met Lusima. Being with her felt like stepping into a sanctuary, a place where he was always safe and cared for and he returned her smile with a warm and open heart. He held out his arms to hug her.
And then he saw something flicker in Lusima’s eye and she halted in her approach towards him. Everything about her posture and expression tightened, as if she were suddenly aware of danger: as if the devil had crossed her path and something evil was prowling through the trees, waiting to attack.
‘What is it?’ asked Leon, alarmed by the change that had come over Lusima and conscious that it had happened while her eyes were focused on him.
‘It … it is nothing,
