Yesterday's Promise (21 page)

“He had no choice but to accept the outcome,” Rogan argued. “He came up against a brick wall, and only a fool keeps throwing himself against it.”

“Aye, that's true enough, but a man could accept the reality of that brick wall and still be bitter as hemlock. But peace in the heart and contentment come when a man can leave vengeance to the great Judge of all, knowing even gold rands and diamond moguls will give an account to God. Well, a man who's been cheated can sleep better knowing he doesn't have to be the one to bring in justice. What do you think, Mr. Rogan?”

Rogan gave him a narrow look. “I think you've already made it clear.”

Derwent smiled, then took his small, black Bible from his pocket and opened it. “I was reading this awhile ago when you all were in the tent with Mr. Rhodes and Sir Julien. ‘Woe to him who builds a town with bloodshed, who establishes a city by iniquity!'”

Rogan looked at him. “All right, Vicar, you can go to bed now.”

Derwent grinned and put his worn Bible away.

Rogan smiled faintly.

Derwent stood from the fire and glanced in the direction of Rhodes's tent. “Oh, here comes Sir Julien.”

“Better leave me so I can handle him. Peaceful like.”

“Sure, I was just going to turn in. G'night, Mr. Rogan.”

When Derwent had left, Julien walked up to the fire. He accepted a tin mug from the washerboy, stooped, and poured his own coffee.

“Looks like poison.”

In the tense silence that followed, Julien added quietly, “You were
unwise to contest Rhodes the way you did earlier. Angering him will only add to your problems. The BSA is law in this section of Africa, and remember, it was Cecil Rhodes who started the Company.”

Rogan shrugged off the accusation. “When is it ever safe to question a tyrant's wisdom?”

“Come, come, Rogan. You're exaggerating. Cecil Rhodes is one of South Africa's leading British colonials.”

“I don't question his commitment to building a British empire. I question the tactics. I'm not forgetting John Sheehan. In some ways the BSA is little better than the buccaneers in the Caribbean. The Company's in this for itself, to gain control of wealth.”

“I wouldn't be too quick to brand the Company as a brotherhood of lawless profiteers if I were you, young Rogan.”

Rogan loathed being called “young Rogan.” The silly term “my boy” was equally abhorrent to him.

“What do you call your expedition into Mashonaland?” Julien challenged. “And Henry's in the 1870s? Wasn't it for personal ambition and gold?”

Rogan drew his brows together and was silent. The wood crackled and cast a flurry of red sparks into the air.

Julien's mouth twisted. He drank his coffee. “You, too, can be called a buccaneer.”

Rogan threw the remains of the bitter coffee into the fire, causing the flames to hiss. “Henry didn't intend to subjugate a land for Her Majesty. Nor do I. And if I recall, Queen Victoria sent word that she does not approve of the BSA taking African land and subjugating it. The trouble with Rhodes, as I see him, is that he's a law unto himself.” He tossed his empty mug to the washerboy and turned to stride away. “Good night, Uncle.”

“Rogan!”

Rogan paused and turned. He knew he had riled the cobra.

Julien stood, formidably. The firelight cast wild, dancing shadows across his tall, angular frame.

“Direct opposition to our authority cannot be tolerated. This is outright rebellion.”

Rogan laughed unpleasantly. “Rebellion against Mr. Rhodes or against you?”

Julien strode toward him. The black patch gave his face a sinister look. Had he still been the “young Rogan” of Rookswood, he was certain that Julien would have struck him. Especially after the events in Kimberly.

They stood confronting each other in the encircling darkness.

“You're forgetting the one important fact, Rogan. The fact of which Rhodes sent me here to remind you. Just as straightforwardly as we can. The queen's Colonial Office in London has already granted Cecil Rhodes that Royal Charter to begin a colony in Mashonaland. You know that. That charter, along with the profits from De Beers Consolidated, officially empowers us to buy and distribute land parcels for farms to its pioneers. It also grants the rights to any mineral discoveries thereabouts. Even if you proceed without us and discover Henry's gold deposit, you will be forced to work through the Company or find yourself in breach of the law.”

The dueling words came like short cutting jabs from an expert swordsman, ripping his plans apart. But there was more to Julien's attack this time than just threats. If his claims were true that the Company did hold jurisdiction over all mining rights in what would become Rhodesia, then this could destroy him. It would mean the Charter Company held all power and authority.

Julien did not gloat as Rogan would have expected. His face was sober.

“I see you finally understand Mr. Rhodes. You should have listened to me at Kimberly when I suggested we make the map a family enterprise.”

“Wouldn't the Company still have rights?”

Julien was quiet a long moment. “I may have been able to convince
him to back off. Now he knows of the map, of Henry, so there's no way out for us. We're both limited to Mr. Rhodes.”

Rogan was baffled. “You didn't tell him of the map?”

“No.” He drank his coffee.

Rogan studied his face and saw a look of uncertainty. “Arcilla again?”

“No, no, I think it was Mornay.”

“Mornay! You've got to be wrong. Mornay dislikes Rhodes. He'd never say anything.”

“No? You've still much to learn, my boy, about human nature. Don't think because he quit working for me to become your guide that he did so out of some sudden flare of character. He did so as a bargaining chip with Rhodes.”

“I don't believe it,” Rogan said angrily. “The very idea of the colony and British rule turn him into a dour old Boer.”

“A dour old Boer who will be mollified with British gold so he can settle down comfortably in the new colony.”

Rogan considered this and kept silent. It was possible.

“You're a practical young man,” Julien continued, more placating now that Rogan was studiously silent. “You heard Rhodes's offer tonight. A fair and generous offer, by the way. But I have something more to add.”

Rogan gave him a measuring glance.

“Peter will arrive here tomorrow. He will lead the Company's delegation to Lobengula's kraal at Bulawayo. Peter has specifically requested that you join him on that delegation. Arcilla has begged that you go along. I also want you working with him. Peter has a fine head on his shoulders, but he has his weaknesses. Your particular strengths will make him the better leader once we set up a government for the new colony. We're calling it Fort Salisbury to begin with, after Lord Salisbury in London.”

Rogan was irked by his looming defeats and was not in a cooperative mood. “If the Company already owns the land and mineral rights, why the need for a delegation to Bulawayo?”

Julien showed nothing. “Peter will discuss it with you tomorrow. He'll want to depart for Bulawayo in the next few days. The parley with Lobengula is urgent before we go any farther into Mashonaland.”

Rogan placed hands on his hips and returned the level stare. He was curious about the urgency, but also wary of what Julien could be planning.

“I haven't even said I would go.”

“I think you will. You've responsibilities to your family name, my boy. It concerns Arcilla.”

Rogan's fingers clenched at the veiled threat.

Julien produced a cheroot, and a match flared. “Peter is to work with Dr. Jameson and others in overseeing the new colony. That gold on the map must be somewhere in the vicinity. With Henry's map we'll find it sooner. If you cooperate, Rhodes will give you fifty percent. That is more generous than his usual way.”

Rogan couldn't resist the hypocrisy of it all. “More generous than the treatment afforded Sheehan?”

“That land where he found coal is Company land.”

The tip of Julien's cheroot glowed red.

“Peter will be helping to lead the pioneers this June. Herein lies the problem, my boy. We had planned to have the colony settled with security forces and farm productivity in place before the women joined their husbands. Unfortunately, there will be an exception when Peter begins the trek. You see my dilemma? Both Arcilla and Darinda will be coming on the expedition. Perhaps even Derwent's little wife. You have an obligation.”

Rogan's jaw clamped. He wouldn't bring up Arcilla's foolish indiscretion at the Government Ball in Capetown, nor the fact he agreed she should be with her husband.

Rogan had been protecting Arcilla from her impulsive whims all his life, and he understood her sometimes unwise spirit. This time her behavior had him cornered.

“This land will destroy Arcilla. She doesn't have the frame of mind
to handle the raw and wild surroundings. She and Peter ought to be sent home to London. You could arrange for Peter to have a government job there, perhaps in the Colonial Office.”

The smell of tobacco drifted downwind toward Rogan.

“Perhaps. But not at this time. Whether I do anything about this in the future will depend on your cooperation with the Company.”

Julien would always have more traps to snare him. Julien understood the leverage to be gained by using Rogan's concern for Arcilla. Julien had learned such tactics from old Ebenezer Bley. Perhaps Ebenezer had recognized the cold, hard face of power and ambition in his young nephew.

Julien calmly smoked his cheroot.

Anger smoldered in Rogan's chest. He'd been thwarted, and by the one man he had long suspected of murdering his uncle Henry.

He might not win now where Arcilla was concerned, but there must be a door out of bondage to the Company somewhere. Rogan told himself he wouldn't quit searching until he found it.

It was foolish, however, to continue the duel now. He must wait for a more opportune moment, a time when he could win against Sir Julien. He must locate a sharper sword to defeat his nemesis.

Rogan affected his most disarming smile and bowed.

“It looks as if there is little choice other than joining hands on the trek to the Zambezi.”

“And Henry's map?”

“Regardless of the Company's exclusive mining rights, the map remains my private property.”

Julien looked thoughtful. As Rogan smiled without feeling, Julien answered with the same affected ease. “I'm sure our difficulties will be smoothed over in time. Map included. We can use you, Rogan. I learned even when you were a boy just how formidable an opponent you could be.”

Julien laughed, and Rogan joined in, though coolly.

“I won't disappoint you.”

Sir Julien glanced at him, brow lifted in question, but Rogan continued to smile.

When Julien had walked away toward the safari wagons, Rogan gazed after him. He saw little room to maneuver. Yet every fiber of his will abhorred submission to an arrogant man like Julien. He had outsmarted Julien on more than one occasion at Rookswood as a boy and had taken great satisfaction in doing so. Now he found himself cornered, with apparently no way out. Could he cooperate with their plans without compromising his independence?

He must think. He must plan. He did not want to follow in the footsteps of formidable men like Rhodes or Julien, not when simple men like John Sheehan could be trampled on without so much as a backward glance or a twinge of regret for the pain and disappointment.

He would fight on. He would not give the Company the satisfaction of the map. They would need to work hard to find the gold without any help from him and Henry.

And his own dreams of the great gold deposit? Once again, the dream must wait until he believed it was safe enough to pursue it. He would go on the expedition as they wished, he would try to protect Arcilla and aid Peter, but his plan to find the gold would be put away with the map until another time.

He always carried the map on him, trusting few, now that ambitious men knew he had it. And ambitious women?

He thought of Evy. How different she was from the cool and calculating Darinda Bley and his unwise sister. Evy's character seemed to shine even brighter out here among the lions hungrily stalking prey.

Thinking of Evy's virtuous character reminded him of his own shortcomings. She deserved a man who would be faithful on a distant shore, a man of integrity with the strength to resist. With God's help perhaps he could measure up, but he was also wise enough to know that opposition lay ahead like a cobra poised to strike.

With the coming of dawn the veld turned golden once more, and the Limpopo came alive with birds of many colors. In the distance a herd of chocolate brown sable antelope were grazing, their tails flicking nervously. The herd's mammoth buck walked forward, sniffing the breeze while lifting its head, crowned with curved, ridged horns—always alert to approaching danger. Its wide shoulders were shiny black, the underbelly white as snow. Then, tossing its shiny mane, it turned and thundered across the veld, the herd swiftly following its lord.