Assegai

‘Ah, so you acknowledge the poor woman’s identity. Yes, Mrs O’Hearne has gone back to England. She left a week ago.’ Snell paused to let it sink in. He gloated at the knowledge that he himself had brought the sordid affair to the governor’s attention. He had always found Verity O’Hearne devilishly attractive. After the death of her husband, he had often fantasized about comforting and protecting her in her bereavement. From a distance he had gazed at her longingly when she sat on the front lawn of the Settlers’ Club taking tea with his wife and other members of the Women’s Institute. She was so young, lovely and gay, and Maggie Snell, sitting beside her, so old, ugly and crabby. When he had heard whispers of her involvement with one of his subalterns he was devastated. Then he became extremely angry. Verity O’Hearne’s virtue and reputation were in danger and it was his duty to protect her. He had gone to the governor.

‘Well, Courtney, I do not intend to substantiate my allegations any further. All will be decided at your court-martial. Your dossier has been handed to Captain Roberts of Second Battalion. He has agreed to act as prosecuting officer.’ Eddy Roberts was one of Snell’s favourites. ‘The charges against you will be desertion, cowardice, dereliction of duty and failing to obey the orders of a superior officer. Second Lieutenant Sampson of the same battalion has agreed to defend you. I know that the two of you are friendly, so I do not expect you to object to my choice. There has been some difficulty in finding three officers to make up the court. Naturally I am unable to sit on the panel, as I will be required to give evidence during the proceedings, and most officers are in the field against the last of the rebels. Fortunately a P&O liner docked in Mombasa over the weekend carrying a group on leave from India en route for Southampton. I have arranged that a colonel and two captains will travel up from Mombasa by train to Nairobi to make up a full panel of judges. They are due to arrive at eighteen hundred hours this evening. They will have to return to Mombasa by Friday to continue their voyage, so the proceedings must commence tomorrow morning. I will send Lieutenant Sampson to your quarters immediately to consult with you and to prepare your defence. You’re in a sorry state, Courtney. I can smell you from where I sit. Go and get yourself cleaned up and be ready to appear before the court for arraignment first thing tomorrow morning. Until then you are confined to your quarters.’

‘I request an interview with Colonel Ballantyne, sir. I need an extension of time to prepare my defence.’

‘Unfortunately, Colonel Ballantyne is not in Nairobi at the moment. He is in the Nandi tribal lands with First Battalion making reprisals for the Niombi massacre and stamping out the last of the rebel resistance. It is unlikely that he will return to Nairobi for several weeks. When he does, I am certain he will take cognizance of your request.’ Snell smiled coldly. ‘That is all. Prisoner, dismiss!’

‘Guard detail, attention!’ barked Sergeant Major M’fefe. ‘About turn! Quick march! Left, right, left . . .’ Leon found himself out in the brilliant sunshine of the parade-ground, being marched at double time towards the officers’ billets. Everything was moving so swiftly that he had difficulty in ordering his thoughts.

Leon’s quarters were a rondavel, a single-roomed building with a circular mud-daub wall and a thatched roof. It stood in the centre of a row of identical huts. Each was occupied by an unmarried officer. At his door, Sergeant Major M’fefe saluted Leon smartly and said softly but awkwardly, in Kiswahili, ‘I am sorry this has happened, Lieutenant. I know you are no coward.’ M’fefe had never, in twenty-five years of service, been required to arrest and place under guard one of his own officers. He felt ashamed and humiliated.

Even though most of Leon’s company turned out to cheer his performance in any cricket or polo match, and when they saluted him it was always with a sparkling African grin, he was only superficially aware of his popularity among the other ranks so he was moved by the sergeant major’s words.

M’fefe went on hurriedly to cover his embarrassment: ‘After you left on patrol a lady came to the main gates and left a box for you, Bwana. She told me to make sure you received it. I put it in your room next to the bed.’