By the time Rogan reached the dusty street, Darinda was waiting in the horse-drawn trap. On the seat beside her lay a shotgun with its metal glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
“I hope you didn’t leave that gun lying there unattended when you were in the tavern,” Rogan told her in unabashed correction. “Anyone could have walked by and snatched it.”
The breeze ruffled her shiny black hair in contrast with the Victorian white blouse with its lace collar. She wore the blouse stuffed into a pair of pants. He had yet to see the woman wearing a skirt.
“I don’t need a man to tell me that,” she snapped. “I had it locked in the case in back. You took so long in there I’d almost given up on you. I took it out to keep me company on the way home. There’s a lonely stretch of land between here and Government House.”
Rogan offered a light bow. “Good to see you’ve got some sense, Cousin. My apology. Sorry I kept you waiting.”
He swung up and settled himself. She flipped the reins and they were off.
“I suppose you’re one of those overbearing males who won’t allow their wives to breathe without your approval.”
Remembering how Evy had taken advantage of him, he found Darinda’s charge amusing. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he repressed a chuckle.
Darinda gave him a nasty glance and flicked the reins more urgently.
“Tell me,” he said, “if you ever really got angry at a man, would you be heartless enough to whack him when his back was turned?”
She wrenched and jerked the reins, and the horse leaped forward. Rogan grabbed the reins and calmed the excited horse.
“How dare you!” she cried, her cheeks crimson, her eyes flashing. “Accuse me of killing Anthony!”
“Then you did not?”
“You beast!” She picked up her horsewhip and started using it on him. Dropping the reins, he caught the whip near the center of the cord so she was unable to swing it again. When she stopped trying, he tossed it in back.
“Then you didn’t,” he said, satisfied. “I’ll take your word for it. What’s this about you having met him on the trail and argued with him shortly before he was killed?”
He drove the horse now, and she was breathing hard, looking at him with shock and rage.
“Did Ryan tell you? Why, that traitor. And after he told me to say nothing.”
He drove past flat-topped thorn trees. “Ryan? Ah, I see. So it’s ‘Ryan’ now, not Captain Retford, is it? You’ve got something going with him.”
“That is none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business. I’m worried about my brother. I think you’ve run Parnell into the ground long enough. If you’ve no intention of marriage, then I think it’s past time to be fair with him and let him know. If you don’t, I will. Is it Parnell or Ryan?”
She glared at him. “It’s neither man, if you want to know. I happen to prefer my freedom from men like you.”
“Do you mind if I tell Parnell you’re being used by Julien to keep him strung up by his thumbs?”
“You may tell Parnell anything you wish. If he hasn’t figured out by now that I’m not in love with him, then he’s too thickheaded to believe you, either.”
“True. He has that tendency,” he said dryly. “I told him back on the Limpopo River, but he wouldn’t believe it.”
“He’s not as shrewd as you,” she retorted.
He laughed. “I think you have one up on both us poor Chantry men,” he goaded. “So now you’re baiting poor Captain Retford, are you?”
She folded her arms and stared ahead.
“He’s a good man, Darinda. Better than Parnell. I don’t like admitting that about my brother, but it’s true. Parnell is to blame for the debacle he’s in. When he first came to Capetown with the idea to marry Darinda Bley, he had diamonds and power on his mind. Who you were, or what you would become never entered his heart. He’s gotten burned. Now in a state of depression, he’s surrendered to liquor.”
She was quiet and seemed to lose some of her anger. “I didn’t want to hurt him deliberately. The romantic game with Parnell was instigated by Grandfather. But I’ll admit that I went along with it for my own purposes.”
“Are those purposes still the burning ambition of your life, or has Retford pulled you in another direction?”
She sighed. “I haven’t decided.”
He wondered. Somehow he thought she meant something more than merely trying to decide if she was falling for him or not. “I see.”
She looked at him coldly and lapsed into silence.
“So Retford told you not to mention that you’d argued with Anthony on the trail. Did he say why?”
“It wasn’t to protect me because I’ve done something despicable. I wouldn’t kill Anthony Brewster, but I did threaten him. It was foolish, I know. I didn’t actually mean it. Ryan was afraid Harry would use the incident to his favor in some way.” She looked at him. “I was the one who told Ryan about the meeting with Anthony. No one would ever have known about it if I hadn’t admitted it.”
“I never suspected you of murder, Darinda. But you’re wrong about no one knowing that you’d met and threatened him on the trail.”
Her eyes were wary.
“Arcilla overheard. Strange how things happen. Just when one thinks they’ve gotten by with deceit or some other wrong, providence appears to have a final say.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Yes … Dr. Jakob said something of that nature. ‘Be sure your sin will find you out.’ That’s stayed in my mind. How did Arcilla overhear?”
“She must have been on her way to Anthony’s bungalow when she approached both of you while you were having a heated argument. Knowing my sister, she would have been cautious about getting involved. She stepped aside on the trail until Anthony walked on.”
“He was going to meet someone and was in a hurry, I remember that.”
“But you’ve no idea who it was he went to meet?”
“No.”
“It was well that you owned up to Retford when you did. It wouldn’t look good for you right now had you kept silent only to have Arcilla inform me when I arrived. I’d have wondered if an attractive young heiress might find it in her interest to get rid of a contender.”
“If I had wanted to, I’d have used something more feminine,” she said maliciously. “Like poison.”
She withdrew into silence, but he could see the news had given her plenty to think about.
So Retford didn’t trust Harry either. Rogan decided Retford had been prudent when he’d told Darinda to keep her argument with Anthony to herself.
Julien was waiting in his office when Darinda brought Rogan in to see him.
“Thank you, Darinda. Rogan and I will talk privately.”
“And if you hear any shots,” Rogan commented dryly, “don’t call Whipple, call Retford.”
“Still the amusing scoundrel,” Julien commented. “Sit down, Rogan, sit down, we need to talk. Close the door behind you, Darinda.”
Rogan remained standing.
“Smoke?” Julien pushed the ornate cigar box across the desk.
Rogan chose a cheroot and struck a match while Julien poured himself a brandy from the crystal decanter, his back toward him.
“How is Evy taking Anthony’s death?”
Rogan’s eyes fell upon a gold object sitting on Julien’s desk. He stared too long; the match burned his thumb. The bird on Henry’s map. He wanted to reach for it, then caught himself just in time. Caution. Show nothing. Nothing.
“You should not have married her. You got my letter of reprimand, I suppose? Quite a shock to me to have learned of your action after the fact.”
Rogan turned a shoulder to the bird to concentrate fully on what Julien was saying.
“I might have invited you to enjoy the wedding,” he said flippantly, “but there wasn’t enough time to accommodate your voyage.”
Julien turned his head and measured him with a thoughtful glance. “Pure rebellion on your part, going against family wishes in this matter, but not surprising.”
“When I discovered you’d lied to me that night on the Limpopo about Evy’s lineage, I knew any plans for my future must be made apart from your interests. Henry’s daughter by Katie van Buren, was she? All along you knew Evy was Anthony’s daughter.”
“I had hoped to keep you from marrying her. I failed. There’s nothing left now but to let the past, with its poor judgments, rush by on the river of life.”
“Touching, even a trace of the poetic. You won’t mind if I remain cautious?”
“Dr. Jakob informs me you’re to be a father. What is there left to us now but acceptance? As I say, I wish to move on, to forget the past, let it lie waste, and build something new—between you and me. I’ve asked you here to make a bargain.”
“Whenever you wish to make a bargain with me, I always get tremors, Uncle Julien. You won’t mind if I back off a little to consider?”
Julien’s lower lip pulled into a smile. “The cobra pit, eh? No, no, nothing like that. Gold, the secret to Henry’s map unmasked, and for me, the Kimberly Black Diamond.”
Easy, Rogan told himself. He studied Julien, wondering what shrewd scheme he was working on now, hoping to rope him into it. The secret of the map? Could he have found out the meaning of the symbols? The gold bird on the desk could imply that, but how? No one else had even known of the symbols, except Derwent and Mornay.
He was strongly tempted to glance toward the gold bird but looked instead at the cheroot, turning his side to the desk. “Gold and diamonds,” he commented airily, “what grander topic for greedy mortals?”
Julien chuckled with brazen amusement. “The world, Rogan, is made up of greedy mortals such as you call us.”
“Yes, but not all remain such, thankfully. There’s Dr. Jakob—and Derwent. Two very different men, yet they have much the same belief in the meaning of life, the same solid character. They seem to be able to look through the fog of ideas and choose what’s meaningful.”
“Bah. Fools, both. Derwent will never amount to much in this life. If you hadn’t taken a liking to the lad, he’d still be stuck in Grimston Way most likely teaching at the rectory in some minor capacity.”
Rogan felt the sting. Julien hadn’t meant to, but Rogan was aware that by and large he’d been responsible for bringing Derwent to Bulawayo.
“Looking back, I’d do things differently. I wish Derwent were at the vicarage teaching.”
“Sentimental tommyrot. I’m ashamed of you, Rogan,” he said in mocking amusement. “You’re getting a conscience in your old age, or perhaps the idea of becoming a father is turning you into a philosopher.”
Rogan sank into a chair, stretching out his legs in front of him, drawing his brows together.
Julien looked down at him speculatively, then he laughed with humor.
“What is it? The married life isn’t as blissful as you anticipated?” He laughed again.
Rogan met his gaze evenly, not the least bit amused. “Evy supports Dr. Jakob in his work. She’s anxious to use some of her inheritance to expand his medical hut into a hospital.”
“And you haven’t talked any sense into her?”
“I happen to agree with her on the idea. What we disagree on is her being here at all. I didn’t know she was expecting until we were far at sea. Now it’s too late. I need to make the best of things.”
Julien chuckled. He leaned back against his desk, arms folded, his one good eye glinting with malicious amusement.
“So now your firstborn will be born a Rhodesian. That much is splendid! I’m beginning to like this after all. There may be hope for all I’ve accomplished and planned for the family in South Africa. I’ve always said you could be an asset to me, or you could turn out to be as useless as Anthony proved to be. The biggest mistake I made years ago was adopting Anthony and making him a son before it became clear that he never had fire warming his blood.”
“Well, he’s gone now,” Rogan said heartlessly. He had noticed the door move slightly. When Darinda had left the room, Julien had told her to shut the door behind her. It was open a crack. He suspected she was eavesdropping.
To teach her a lesson about trusting Julien, Rogan played along with him. “Maybe you have something there, Uncle. With the inheritance Evy gets from the van Burens, and now from Anthony, along with my inheritance, our children will be strong new blood in the family dynasty.”
“I may have found my true heir.” He chuckled again and eyed Rogan with alert new interest. “Wisely said. Now you’re seeing things as they should be. But don’t mention Evy’s interest in Jakob’s work. That Boer is more than a thorn in my side. He’s an out-and-out sword. Missionaries! They bring nothing but trouble when they arrive. I was against the BSA allowing him to come here and construct that compound out of town. Always harping on native rights and the need to build schools, hospitals, churches—bah! As if the warrior caste will ever want to attend a school!”
It’s either churches and schools or assegais and hatred. The colonialists would need to give them something in place of what they were taking from the hills and reefs, but Rogan did not say this aloud.
“Enough of missionaries! I shall be blunt, Rogan. We understand each other. I suppose you think I murdered Anthony?”
“That was the first solution that came to mind.”
Julien gave a bitter chuckle.
The door moved silently again and closed.
“One thing about you, you’re straightforward. So I, too, will be blunt.” He finished his brandy and set the glass down.
That bird. Why was it here? Where had Julien gotten it? He wanted to ask, but doing so would give him away. He must move slowly, patiently, to keep Julien in the dark …
“You still intend to search for Lobengula’s burial cave, I suppose?” Rogan asked.
“What do you think? Would I allow anything to stop me?”
No, nor would he allow anyone to thwart him in his quest.
“The Black belongs to me. It always has. It represents more to me than a mere diamond. It is the start of my kingdom in Kimberly. I’ve never told you this before, Rogan. I’ve never talked about my earliest beginnings here in South Africa with anyone. The family believes I always got along with Ebenezer Bley. Nothing could be more ridiculous. I hated him. He tried to control me. He tried to cheat me out of everything I earned in the pit. And in the beginning, it will shock you to know, I played fairly. I worked harder than most, but Ebenezer outsmarted me at every turn. I told him I’d never cooperate with him, but he laughed at me. ‘You’re like me, Julien,’ he’d mock. ‘You’ll follow in my footsteps.’
“I swore I wouldn’t. I partnered with Carl van Buren … We made some crucial finds that allowed us to expand. Then I found the Kimberly Black … It was worth a fortune …”
Rogan was uncomfortable. In listening to Julien’s beginnings, he could see himself. Even Julien’s dislike for Ebenezer was a parody of how he felt about Julien.
“Wait,” Rogan said. “You claim you found it. But I’ve heard other renditions. I’ve heard it was Carl, and therefore it’s actually Evy’s diamond—”
“Bah. That’s Heyden’s story. That’s why he’ll kill to get it. He really believes it belongs to the van Burens.”
Rogan wasn’t sure if he believed Julien. “I’ve also heard it said that Henry believed my grandfather discovered it.”
“So he told me on that day long ago at Cape House. Henry came to get financial backing for an expedition north. The Black was on my desk. He threatened me. He claimed it belonged to the Chantrys.”
“And I suppose that’s not true?” Rogan asked wryly.
“Naturally not. I discovered it before the day the mine explosion took Carl’s life. I tried to save him …”
“Yes, I’d think so.”
“But he was too badly injured. So you see the Black represents my beginning, my freedom from everyone and everything that controlled me. Including Ebenezer. That’s when I lost my eye … but once I had the Black, I had the key to my future, my kingdom in diamonds. I naturally gravitated toward men like Rhodes and joined De Beers Consolidated Mining Company. Ebenezer became proud of me. He treated me as his heir after that and left me in control. He could see that only I, Julien Bley, had the ability to follow his steps. The Black Diamond represents my purpose in life, yes, my reason to live, my soul. And I will take it back from Lobengula’s rotting carcass. It belongs in my showcase at Cape House. When I need to be reminded of my purpose, I take it out, handle it, look at it, recommit to my goals.”
Rogan fought against the rising sensation of disgust. But why should he feel thus? Julien’s ambitions were typical of many, though in an exaggerated fashion. While few would go as far as Julien, he had consistently followed his purposes to the fullest extent. Was he not even like him, himself?
“You’ll go on the Matopos expedition, as well. So will Retford. You ask why? Because I don’t trust some of the men I’ll need to bring with me. I’ll need protection, and so will the Black until I can return to Capetown.”
Rogan was not about to get involved in the Matopos diamond hunt.
“I’ll say one thing for you and Retford. I can turn my back to you two.”
“That’s something Anthony couldn’t do to someone he trusted.”
“You think it was one of us?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not convinced. What was there to gain by his death?”
“Maybe it was to cover something up.”
Julien’s eye twitched. “Such as?”
Rogan stood. If he said anything about the plan to aid the Uitlanders, he might unmask Arcilla’s knowledge of what was happening. Parnell, too, might be suspected.
“Just a suggestion. We do know someone did it, and it doesn’t appear as an opportune killing by one of the Ndebele.” Now was his chance … “So Dumaka is dead, or is he? I’ve my doubts about that.”
“You heard about the tale I told at dinner that night? Yes, Harry got him. Trailed him to the Shangani.”
“He trailed a Zulu?” Rogan pointed out doubtfully. “You know the Ndebele as I do. Do you think a man of Harry Whipple’s caliber could outrun and outsmart Dumaka? I don’t. I’d like to talk to Harry about it.”
“Harry has no reason to come up with a story like that. I believe him.”
“Because you want to believe Dumaka is dead. As for having no reason, the reason is as clear as you’d want it. For your indebtedness, your favor. And it’s worked, too, hasn’t it? Why else is Whipple the head of your native Company police? Because of his great ability? It didn’t take much to convince me he has little of that. But he’s pugnacious and takes orders from you well.”
Julien, rather than getting angry, considered. He took a slim Turkish cigarette from his case and lit it.
“I won’t deny he’s been bought. In some ways I’d trust a spitting cobra before Harry. But in the matter of Dumaka, I do trust him.”
“Why, because he says so? Did he bring you any proof?”
Julien paced in front of his desk. Rogan’s gaze was lured back to what looked to be a solid gold falcon with wings spread, its head looking to the right. The exact replica of what Henry had drawn! Somehow he had yet to bring up the subject. Would Darinda know anything about it? Perhaps—
“I’ll call Harry now. Ask him any question you like.” Julien walked to the door and threw it open.
“Captain Retford, send for Whipple.”
Harry Whipple arrived almost at once, looking curious and pleased with himself until he noticed Rogan. He eyed him warily. Julien motioned for Retford to stay.
“Well, Harry,” Julien said in a baiting voice, “you’ve met Rogan here. He thinks Dumaka is still alive and conniving evil against us. What do you have to say about that?”
Rogan looked at Retford. He seemed alert and interested. Had he doubted the story as well? Rogan credited Retford with having good sense. He was a friend of Derwent, which spoke well for Retford. Darinda had entered the office from another door, and Rogan wondered how much she had heard. He thought she, wily as a little fox, knew just about everything her grandfather was doing in Bulawayo. Rogan also noticed the enamored glance that passed between her and Captain Retford when they spotted each other.
Darinda walked over to the desk and stood with her back toward them as her grandfather sparred with Harry Whipple.
“Dumaka’s dead, all right,” Harry stated firmly. “I saw five or six crocs headed straight for him after he jumped in the Shangani.”
“But you didn’t actually see them attack?” Rogan inquired.
“Now, c’mon, Rogan Chantry, you think you could survive a bunch of hungry crocs?”
“No. But I’m wagering a Zulu warrior could.”
“Well, you’re wagerin’ wrong. There’s nobody who could survive that many of ’em.”
“But you offer no proof Dumaka is dead. No bit of clothing, his assegai, nothing.”
Harry wore a sullen face. “Didn’t think I needed any. Saw no reason why I should be doubted, and if I hadn’t been sure the savage was killed, I wouldn’t have come back saying so. I chased him from Lobengula’s hut. Ask Sir Julien. I saved his life that time. Dumaka ran out of the hut, and I was on him like a vulture.”
Rogan didn’t like the way he averted his eyes when he spoke. He wasn’t convinced, but looking over at Julien, he saw satisfaction written on his face. Julien found it easy to believe his enemy was dead.
“There you have it, Rogan,” Julien said with the vibrancy of victory in his voice. “Harry is sure the crocodiles in the river finished the job. I for one find his story credible.”
Harry cultivated a look of humility. “Thank you, sir. Your trust in me does me honor.”
Rogan placed hands on hips and twisted his mouth. Captain Retford smiled.
Darinda turned from the desk, and her face was anything but smiling.
“Grandfather, what if he isn’t dead? That may provide a better explanation of what happened here in your office the night Anthony was murdered.”
Julien appeared to tense. He turned toward her.
“I don’t think we should bring that night up, Miss Bley,” Harry said in a baneful voice.
She looked at him. “If you expect to solve a murder, maybe we should.”
Rogan tried not to smile, but Harry looked doleful, as though she’d hit him unfairly.
“The spellcasting, the sacrificed animal, the hakata divining bones, I’m inclined to agree with Rogan that it fits Dumaka. For that matter, who’s to say he didn’t kill Anthony?”
“If he’s alive it’s possible, but he needs a motive, Miss Bley, if we’re to add Dumaka to the list of possible murderers,” Captain Retford said.
Darinda looked over at Rogan. “Did Dumaka ever hold anything against Anthony?”
“I think we’re jumping all over the place here,” Harry complained. “We’re assuming too much. I say Dumaka is dead.”
“Only indirectly. He may have had a grudge against Anthony,” Rogan answered Darinda, ignoring Harry Whipple. “He knew Anthony was in the Cape House stables that night when the Black Diamond was stolen. He must have known Anthony was Uncle Julien’s adopted son. He would despise him for that reason alone. And secondly, his sister, Jendaya, converted to Christianity under Dr. Clyde and Junia Varley. Dumaka despised Jendaya for becoming a Christian. In his way of thinking, she’d betrayed the Zulu kingdom and its gods. Jendaya was there at Rorke’s Drift when the Zulus attacked. Dumaka was one of those impis. Jendaya managed to escape with Anthony’s child. Dumaka could hold that against Anthony. Now, what was that about hakata bones?”
Julien had withdrawn into an uncanny silence.
“The captain can tell you about it,” she said.
Rogan stopped him. He already knew all about the nganga and their divining bones. He also remembered that Henry wrote in his journal about Julien having a set, and how when Henry walked in on him once, Julien had been doing something peculiar with them.
“Are you saying Julien’s office here was the scene of spellcasting?” Rogan was alarmed. Now he was almost sure Dumaka was alive.
Sir Julien roused himself and took command again. He walked to his desk and snatched another Turkish smoke, lighting it with jerky movements. “Yes. The sign of a black future.” He looked at Harry Whipple. “You still stand by your oath that you cornered Dumaka by the Shangani?”
“Yes, he’s dead. Whoever did that hokey-pokey will be caught, sir. We’re still on it.”
Julien looked across the room at Rogan, then back to Harry. “All right, Harry, that’s all for now. Keep on it, by Jove. We’ll have the fiend who killed Anthony before all this is over. Darinda? You and the captain can go as well. I still have a few things to talk over with Rogan.”
They all trooped out, and when the door was shut and they were alone again, Julien turned to look at him. An unpleasant smirk was on his face. Rogan’s gaze dropped to what Julien held in his hand.
The gold falcon glittered.