Assegai

Leon stood at the edge of the cliff with Manyoro and Loikot. The sun was not yet up, and a low bank of mist hung over the water. The dawn was windless and the lake was a polished pewter grey. Skeins of luminous pink flamingoes flew in long, wavering lines low along it, the unruffled grey waters reflecting their perfect mirror images. It was very beautiful.

‘Bwana Samawati thinks his back leg is broken,’ Leon said, still watching the flamingoes. ‘Perhaps it will slow him down a little.’ Loikot spat a small glob of mucus on to the black lava sand, and Manyoro picked his nose, then examined the crusty product on the end of his forefinger with attention. Neither replied to the fatuous statement. A broken leg would not slow down an angry buffalo bull.

Leon went on, ‘Bwana Mjiguu wants to lead. He says it’s his buffalo. He will shoot it.’ The Masai had named Eastmont ‘Mr Big Feet’ and greeted this latest snippet of information with as much joy as they would news of the passing of a dear friend.

‘Perhaps he will shoot it in the other leg. That will slow it down,’ Manyoro suggested, and Loikot doubled over in paroxysms of mirth. Leon could not control himself. He had to join in, and the laughter eased their feelings a little.

Behind them Percy came out of his tent and Leon left the Masai to greet him. His complexion was as grey as the lake waters and his limp more pronounced.

‘Morning, Percy. Did you have a good night?’

‘Bloody leg kept me awake.’

‘There’s coffee in the mess tent,’ Leon said, and they walked towards it. ‘I saw Uncle Penrod in Nairobi. He asked me to tell you something.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Eastmont was cashiered from the army in South Africa. Cowardice in the face of the enemy.’ Percy stopped and stared at him. ‘Back home he was found not guilty of drowning his extremely rich wife. Lack of evidence.’

Percy thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘Do you know something? That doesn’t surprise me one little bit. I had him right up against the buff yesterday. Twenty yards. Not an inch more. He shot it in the back leg because he was overcome with terror.’

‘Are you going to let him lead today?’

‘You heard him last night. We don’t have much option, do we?’

‘Do you want me to back him?’

‘You think I can’t cut it any more?’ Percy looked bereft.

Leon was stricken with remorse. ‘Hell, no! You’re still a stick of dynamite.’

‘Thanks. I needed to hear that. But Eastmont is still my client. I’ll back him, but I’ll be grateful to have you behind me.’ At that moment Eastmont came out of his tent and shambled towards them. His gait was ungainly, like that of a performing bear on a chain. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ Percy greeted him brightly. ‘Eager to pick up your buff?’