The Zulu tribe, originally insignificant, was raised to become the greatest native power in Africa, south of the Zambesi River, by the ability and military talent of Tshaka, one of its chiefs. The genius, instincts, and traditions of the people are all military; the nation, which is less than seventy years old, had become a compact military engine before the years of its existence had numbered twenty, and its very life depended at that time of its history upon the perfection of its aggressive and defensive powers.
Despatch to the Earl of Carnarvon from Sir T. Shepstone, Administrator of the Transvaal, January 5, 1878
“You joining us, or running along to your Ma, lad?” The soldier who called to her was standing around the fire with his mates, and Elizabeth ducked her head as eight pairs of eyes turned her way.
No.
She couldn't stand out. She couldn't be the outsider she felt.
“My Ma makes better food than the swill they’re feeding me here, so I’d rather be running along to her,” she called back from her perch on a rock, just within reach of the fire’s glow. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, they could surely hear it.
They laughed. Stopped watching her so intently.
“My Ma too, come to think of it,” another of the men said, “and I never thought I’d be longing for her home cooking.”
“Ah, Her Majesty’s infantry. Take the Queen’s shilling and learn to appreciate the comforts of home through the sore lack of 'em.”
The men laughed again, out of proportion to the joke, and Elizabeth guessed there was more than just tea in the mugs they held in their hands.
“Aye, you’ll never see that on a poster.”
“Too right.”
The men were relaxed now, turned back to the fire, and Elizabeth slipped off, moving into the darkness between two camp fires.
She wanted to avoid Captain Burdell, but she knew with certainty he’d come looking for her if she didn’t find him, and she was afraid of what he’d do or say if she pushed him that far.
She moved between the tents of the common foot soldiers, towards the comparative luxuries of the officers’ quarters.
The 2nd 24ths officers’ mess tent was well-lit and the sound of murmured conversation and the occasional bark of laughter drifted from the open flap.
Finding nowhere to sit that wasn’t boggy, and too exhausted to stand, Elizabeth gave up and sank down, cross-legged, near the entrance to wait for Burdell. Her legs quivered with relief.
She tipped her head back, easing her neck and shoulders, and looked at the rain-cleared sky, thick with stars. For some reason, it made her want to cry and she bent her head forward, the tips of her fingers digging into the damp, spongy ground, wet from an afternoon shower.
Her uniform was damp from the rain, too, and the smell of wet wool filled her nostrils. The fabric clung, clammy and itchy, to her skin, and she loathed it. Wished to pull it off and let the cool night air flow over her.
Becoming a Zulu had unlocked a delight in physical sensation her earlier upbringing had done its best to suppress. Running out in the rain, feeling it streaming over her naked breasts and arms, or lying naked with her friends, chill from the sea, on the hot golden sand to bake in the sun like a lizard.
She would never have known these things had she not begged Lindani’s father to allow her to stay in his chiefdom. Had Mandla, the sangoma, not decided she was a sacred bird of heaven, and thus a gift from the ancestors.
She would always be grateful.
Drawing up her knees, she used them as a place to rest her head, and closed her eyes. Chambers had kept her working almost without rest, and she had never been so physically tired in her life.
She hoped Burdell finished his fine dinner soon because –
A pair of well-polished black riding boots met her at eye-level.
“Been waiting long?” Burdell dropped to a crouch beside her, taking her by surprise, the warm leather and wool scent of him tickling her nose. His shoulders blocked her view of the stars and his eyes did not waver from her face.
Her mouth went dry. She shook her head, and swallowed hard.
“Come on then, we’ll talk in my tent.”
He rose, held out a hand, but Elizabeth ignored it, illogically afraid he would somehow feel she was a woman, with that one touch.
Where did she get these fancies?
He waited for her to scramble to her feet, saying nothing of her refusal of help, then turned on his heel and led the way.
With every step, Elizabeth forced her numbed mind to go through the excuses she had thought to use through the day.
She had to get it right, or she was exposed.
“I don’t bite.” Burdell’s voice was amused as he waited for her in deep shadow.
I bet you do.
She stopped dead, surprised at how instantly the thought popped into her head. How . . . sexual it was.
She looked down at her feet.
“My tent is through here.” He turned again, and negotiated the hazard of tent pegs and ropes, moving easily through them in the dark.
He must have eyes like a cat, she thought, tripping after him.
It was quiet here, the other officers all still socializing and drinking their fine wines and brandies in their mess. She was glad. She wanted no one overhearing her efforts at lying to someone whose only crime was to dig her out of her own hole.
Can’t be helped.
Elizabeth knocked the guilt that rose up with the club of self-defense.
He was waiting for her again. This time, next to his tent. He held open the flap and she slipped in.
“I’ve been looking forward to this little talk all day.” He dropped the flap behind them and moved with sure, confident movements into the pitch dark.
She said nothing, standing just within his tent as he lit a lamp. As the wick took, the light touched his face, highlighting the sharp contours of his cheeks and nose, the wings of his brows.
He blew out the match and looked at her, and his face had lost all traces of friendly bemusement.
“So tell me, what the hell are you playing at?”
“Playing at?” Despite steeling herself for this, she stuttered, her words tripping over themselves. It was going to be as bad as she feared.
“I mean, what the hell is a woman doing out here in the middle of bloody nowhere in a war zone?”
The notion slowly crept over her as she stood in silent despair that just because he knew she was a woman didn’t mean he assumed she was a spy. She was white, English; it was possible it would never cross his mind – anyone’s mind – that she’d spy for the Zulus.
“My brother, sir.” Hope lent a tremor to her voice. Elizabeth had pegged Burdell for a gentleman from the moment she met him. If she could fake tears, it would be easier to convince him, but she was no actress. Instead, she let her shoulders droop.
“My brother joined the 24ths. My mother died recently, and if I can’t find him, my uncle inherits my family home, and I’m out in the cold.”
“So you travelled all the way to Natal to find him?” His voice was explosive, and she winced at the thought of anyone coming to investigate.
“I had no choice. The army said he wasn’t enlisted, so he must have joined up under an assumed name. This seemed the only way to find him.” She made her voice soft, hoping to quieten him without actually telling him to pipe down.
“Good God.” Softer this time, but still too loud.
“Will you turn me in?”
“I don’t know, Private – I don’t even know your name.”
“Elizabeth . . . Bird.”
He rubbed a long finger against the side of his temple, as if he were developing a headache.
“Please don’t report me, sir. I don’t think my brother is here. Maybe he deserted, especially if were under a false name, but there is no way I can get out of the column now, we’ve gone too far. I’m stranded in Natal until I can sneak on a ship home. If they discover me, they’ll just throw me out the army, they won’t care I’m in a strange country.”
“I’m well aware of that.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Shook his head. “And now you’ve involved me.” He rubbed his hand through his hair again, just as he’d done this morning. “No one but myself to blame there.”
“What are you going to do?” She whispered it, not because she wanted him to speak softer this time, but because she could hardly bear to hear the answer.
“I said you were my new batman, so that’s what you’ll be. And as for offering yourself as a replacement for Rhys, that was your own mistake, and probably punishment enough for all your sins.”
Suddenly, he lifted a wooden folding chair and placed it before her, waiting for her to sit before sinking down into a second one.
“I really can be your batman, sir, if you tell me what to do.” It added another layer of authenticity to her life in the camp, and Elizabeth couldn’t help her eagerness.
He leant away from her, horror on his face. “Absolutely not. Do you know what the duties of a batman involve?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Helping me dress.”
She said nothing, incapable of a response, and the silence stretched out between them.
“Exactly,” he said at last. “You’ve forced me to choose between my duty and your well-being. I won’t add to it by having you try to shave me every morning. Having you sleep in the tent will be bad enough.”
“You will let me sleep in the tent?” She could hardly breathe with relief. Sleep with the one person who knew she was a woman? Sleep on the spare camp cot she saw folded in one corner instead of the damp ground? Share with only one person instead of seven smelly foot soldiers?
She wondered what he wanted out of it.
“You can’t sleep with the enlisted men.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “For a start the tents are already assigned, you’d have to find one that doesn’t have its full quota of eight, and that’ll draw attention to you. And then, of course, there is the small fact that you’re a woman.”
His voice twisted on the last word. He drew a shuddering breath and rubbed at his temple again. “If you think my conscience could allow me to send you out, vulnerable to God knows what amongst the enlisted men, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
An honorable man, she almost said, but didn’t. “Thank you.” She’d never meant it as much as she did now.
“Just keep your head down and don’t attract attention.”
“I’ll be as invisible as possible,” she said earnestly, “I promise I’ll be no trouble.”
He let out a laugh.
“Miss Bird, since the moment I set eyes on you, you've been nothing but trouble.”