CHAPTER 1 CATTLE RUSTLING

The tale I'm about to tell happened in a time of great darkness, but also a time of light. A time of much passion when a man survived by the edge of his spear, and by the wielding of a knobkerrie. It was a time when a warrior's fortune could be made by how true his knobkerrie flew and the targets it selected.

I lived by the spear. It gave me food, terrorized my enemies and kept my friends close…..they knew they needed its protection. I respected the spear and treated it well, caressed it and gave it its due attention for you see, i was alive because of the edge of the spear.

Take for instance the other day when we had gone into Maa-rati territory to see if we could kidnap their daughters as extra wives. We knew that nubile Maa-rati girls are often sent into the plains to look after the goats, often escorted by two warriors or even sometimes one.

But first let me introduce myself. I am Kwaria Mwaki , of the clan of rwamba ituge of Anyaga. I am the first son of my father Mwaki Runo , and assisting leader of the fire division of the warriors that defend our tribe.

As i was saying, on this day we decided to go and harvest the daughters of the Maa-rati .I was part of a team of fearless, vicious men. There was Kwaria Muniu, our battle leader, a second son who knew how to handle the spear, but was exceptionally skilled with the knobkerrie. We depended on him to keep the warriors together, and to lead the way.

There was Mukwa Njugu, a left handed fearless warrior of the rwenji clan. It was said that when he cast his knobkerrie at you with his famous left hand, it never missed.

We walked in single file, stepping noiselessly as only a warrior who has spent a lifetime in the African jungle could step. I stared at the sky. It looked like it could rain later. In fact I could smell rain in the air. I increased my pace and the warriors matched their movements to mine without a word being uttered. These fifteen men were my sword brothers. We had gone through many battles together. Some had even taken sword strokes on my behalf. I loved these men.

We moved silently in the gloom of the jungle. Muniu was just behind me, parting bushes with a subtle flick of his knobkerrie. His movements were casual, even effortless. He always seemed to be caressing his knobkerrie, dreamily, like it was a secret friend, a special lover, much missed. I always wondered what thoughts went through his head as he caressed the knob of that hardened wood.

A soft sound ahead of us, not in synch with the noise of the jungle.

I froze as Muniu lifted up a hand, fingers splayed. The warriors froze then crouched, merging with the jungle. I strained my eyes towards where the sound had come from. I could just make out the ears of a feeding duiker. Good! It had not seen us. Muniu signaled to two of the men, Kanyonga and Kenyaga to head it off to the right and another two, Kihara and Mote to head left. The rest crouched even lower, spear shafts held at the ready.

I crawled forward, my breath coming shallowly, the rhythm controlled. In such occasions one does not have to breathe loudly like a novice, kihii, uncircumcised brat. Control is everything. The battle lust was already filling my blood. I knew this feeling. It was the feeling that always covered me just before a decisive combat. The distance between us and the duiker decreased heartbreakingly slowly, but steadily. The duiker lifted its head and smelled the air. I froze. Something about the texture of the air seemed to have disturbed it. It went back to cropping the grass but looking up every now and then, suspiciously.

I knew we had to move in the next few seconds or it would catch our scent. I looked around, judging time and distance. My fellow warriors should be in place by now. I stood up and caught Muniu's eye. He nodded abruptly, and at the same time the spear left my hand in a powerful throw. The duiker, startled leaped into the air, meaning my spear thudded into its thigh. Almost simultaneously another spear flew from the other direction and slammed into its side. Amazingly the duiker jumped up, blaring a surprised grunt and a bellow.

It thudded on the ground and made off into the bushes. Even as it moved the warriors were moving after it and spears from various directions flashed in the sun as they sped towards it. It couldn't last long under such an onslaught. Even as we bounded through the bushes after it, i could now see three more spears sticking from its back.

Then i heard the unexpected. A distinct Maa-rati war whoop, the scream of a warrior who has seen ready meat. Almost simultaneously all our warriors skidded to a stop and dived behind the nearest cover. Confusion reigned, as I realized the Maa-rati were after the same duiker, which by now had become stuck between the two boughs of a huge tree. On closer inspection, I noticed that two of the spears looked clearly Maa-rati .

Silence. Only the dying bleats of the duiker and the chirping and screeching of forest animals could be heard. I strained my eyes trying to make out the number of the enemy. They were well hidden because I could only see four. Muniu our leader stood up and made his way with bold strides to the dying beast. Give the man credit, he was brave. Before he could reach the duiker, another man appeared and made for the same animal. He had a number of ostrich feathers stuck on either arm. His hair was carefully braided and fell in organized bunches behind his ears. He had the stature of one used to command.

Muniu walked all the while caressing his knobkerrie. He looked like one who was consulting its smooth knob for advice on the next move. He reached the beast first and, held out his hand, seized the haft of a spear and drew it out of the now panting duiker. He then turned and glared balefully at the approaching Maa-rati .

"We killed the animal first, so its ours" said Muniu sternly all the while glaring at the Maa-rati . He was answered by a series of syllables that were just as sternly given. None of us understood what the Maa-rati said. Without looking at us, Muniu gestured and one of our warriors. Kinyua, materialized from behind some bushes and made his way to his chief. Kinyua was not a particularly brilliant fighter, but he had one strong point going for him. He spoke Maa-rati .

"Munene, my liege, their leader says that it is no matter that we got it first. They will take it nevertheless" kinyua translated. Looking at our leader, you would have been forgiven for thinking the Maa-rati had just proposed marriage to his eldest daughter. He looked at the Maa-rati solemnly then cracked a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Tell their leader that it will not be without loss to most of his men, but we can spare the bloodletting if he will let his best man face our best man. The winner takes the duiker.

Kinyua uttered some guttural syllables at the Maa-rati leader, who was by now chewing nonchalantly at a twig. A broad smile appeared on his face at kinyua's words. He gave a piercing whistle and we saw some commotion in a clump of bushes. A warrior ran to his leader, a whispered conference followed and the warrior ran back into the bushes. Shortly afterwards Maa-rati warriors appeared as if by magic from various hiding places. From where I was crouched I could see they were about thirteen warriors with gleaming spears and short swords at their sides. All had their hair made up like their leader.

At a gesture from Muniu, the rest of us moved in to form a semicircle around our leader, the Maa-rati on one side, and us on the other. Muniu gestured with his knobkerrie and Mukwa Njugu stood up. On the opposite side a sinewy Maa-rati also stood. They faced each other knobkerries at the ready. The rest of us started moving around them in a circular manner. The Maa-rati started chanting in a monotonous way broken only by an occasional war whoop. The duiker, which by now had given up the ghost, was temporarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Now I did not tell you enough about Mukwa Njugu. The man loved to kill. He was also exceptionally good at it. The bulging muscles and sinews on his back, arms and thighs looked like they could make music if strummed. He was also a proud and arrogant man, knowing his strength. He did not have many friends; in fact, I was one of the few he had. Perhaps because i could ignore the fact that he did not like to talk. Conversation irked Mukwa Njugu. It seemed to pain him. He rarely spoke and when he did, it was through monosyllables. Mukwa Njugu faced his Maa-rati opponent, who looked overly enthusiastic. His opponent had the look a hyena gives the foal of a duiker whose mother has abandoned it.

 The two approached each other at a dead run, knobkerries raised, arms swinging powerfully. The two weapons met in midair with a mighty crack! Warriors on both sides jerked upwards in excitement at the strength behind the blows. It was almost orgasmic, the strength.

 The Maa-rati warrior sidestepped and jumped fully seven feet sideways. Mukwa Njugu also jumped to close the intervening space, his knobkerrie already aiming a fearful blow to the sides of the Maa-rati .

But the Maa-rati was prepared, using one side of his crooked knobkerrie, he blocked the blow and simultaneously got hold of njugu's hand, pulling him violently towards himself. Abruptly the Maa-rati crouched, his hand still tightly on njugu, whose momentum had now taken him almost onto the Maa-rati 's back.

 The Maa-rati rose up, pivoting Njugu who flew and landed on his back to our dismay. War hoops, mainly from the Maa-rati followed. Dust rose, unheeded

 The Maa-rati followed his action with a massive stroke, but Mukwa Njugu wasn't born yesterday. Even as he fell, he didn't let go of his knobkerrie. He used it to block the falling blow, but by his grunt of effort, I could tell the fall had weakened him. Even so he sprung up like a cat.

 Both knobkerries were now in clashed in hard contact, and clashed again, and held. The two warriors strained to get an advantage, eyes bloodshot and wild, looking for the slightest weakness, or opening. Meanwhile, we the spectators went wild. Whoops and grunts, more from the spectators than the combatants rent the air.

 Suddenly the Maa-rati kicked out, catching Njugu on the stomach, and sending him tumbling. The Maa-rati followed running quickly, already sensing victory.

 But Mukwa Njugu was exaggerating, faking more injury than he had actually received. As the Maa-rati descended upon him, his arm went to his hip, immerging with a dagger. His fingers snapped, hurling the dagger underhanded, a favorite style of his. The blade did not disappoint flying true, to embed itself to the left of the approaching Maa-rati .

 But the Maa-rati also did not stop, in spite of his grunt of pain. His knobkerrie came flying, catching Mukwa Njugu at the nape of the neck. He dropped without a sound. The Maa-rati also dropped to the ground, clutching the protruding dagger.

 We rushed to where Mukwa Njugu had fallen and I could see the Maa-rati doing likewise for their comrade. A strange silence ensued. Mukwa Njugu was bleeding from the impact of the knobkerrie and his neck looked like it had grown a small hill. But he was breathing.

 From what I could see, the Maa-rati also was not dead. Although the warriors crowded around him, and the dagger had been removed, i could see he was unconscious. One of the warriors was chewing the leaves of a branch and spitting them on the warriors wound.

 There was to be a training session of the peacock regiment. Kiama was at home whetting his blade and generally preparing his war regalia. Not that it was much. It consisted of a long spear, inherited from his father, a shield of hippo hide which had known better days, a long knife better known as a simi, famous as the blade without a handguard, and a war club. The spear head was at the moment being whetted with enthusiasm just outside his thingira. His father was not present but mother and sisters were in the main house. He could hear them busy gossiping. He paused in his whetting to pass some water from a nearby gouard onto the blade. He could not have been described as an outstanding warrior. Being slight of build and not very strong, he was nevertheless brave. Or rather he imagined himself to be. He closed one eye and peered down the edge of the spear head. Not done yet. He resumed grinding it against the whetstone. When ready the spearhead could be used to shave hair. He bent to the task. The regiment commander sometimes tested spearheads and it would not do to be careless.

 He was a junior member of the peacock regiment, and mighty proud of it. His regiment commander was a great warrior called Njoroge, a kind but stern leader. Yes the men did not respect Kiama he knew. Respect tended to be awarded depending on battle prowess, and strength and he had neither of those. After another half hour of whetting he cleaned up, collected his regalia and headed to the practice area. Many warriors were already gathered there, all in various stages of careless posture. Many were deep in discussions. The peacock regiment could not be said to be the top regiment of the Anyaga people but it held its own. The commander had not yet arrived so kiama went to join a group he knew well, who were closer to his age. Karimi son of Wango was there, Tirie son of wamitirie also was present and a few others. He headed their way only to find them laughing hard at some joke that had just been struck at the expense of one of them. The affected warrior was now looking morosely at his friends. He was the funny one in the group, and his name was Kiroba son of wambui.

"Son of Warobi, just listen to what these sons of hyenas are saying of me!" he said imploringly looking at Kiama with a funny expression on his face which made the other warriors double up and roar with laughter. "They say that I'm the one who fathered the son of Njeri kaheani, otherwise known as the-one-who-gives! "Can you believe them?" he asked incredulously. "The boy looks exactly like you kiroba, are you denying the obvious?" Tirie piped in. Kiroba spread his hands comically, "he may look like me but that is not to say I'm the father….even your younger brother looks like me but you know I never interfered!"

The warriors laughed even harder. Their merriment was interrupted by a warrior who suddenly joined their group, flanked by two others. This was Njoka, a mean warrior, a bully who was older and well-built. His side men were Mbogo and Nyamu both not the very best of men. "YOU!" he said sternly pointing at Kiama. "Take my war regalia and sharpen the blades, I want to shave myself with my simi when you're done!"

The friends were momentarily silent. Then tirie stood up. "Njoka, you know that every warrior prepares his own war regalia, what then is this?"

"I know it! Thundered Njoka. "But I want him to do it! And let me find it undone". "Thirty minutes I give you!" He dropped his sword and spear on the ground and left, huge strides eating up the ground. His side men smirked and followed. "Don't do it Kiama!" said Kiroba urgently, "the commander will not take it!"

The others urged him hotly in a similar way. He would have to rush to make it in time for the training. If the commander arrived before him, there would be pain. He did not like pain. Kiama picked up the warriors war weapons and without a word made his way towards home. His friends stared at him, mouth open. He didn't say a word. He figured there was no point in instigating a fight with the senior warrior. It was easier to sharpen his weapons. Perhaps if he was quick, he could be back before the regiment commander commenced the training. He begun jogging 

 A few minutes later found him at home, setting up the whetting stone, and some water. He settled himself and begun working on the spearhead. As he worked he thought of the offending warrior. As he whetted he grew more and more furious. At this rate he would never make it to the training on time. But go he would. Even if it meant getting in trouble with the commander. He set aside the spearhead and begun working on the simi. This was a truly huge simi. He wondered how the wielder was able to use it effectively. This would never do. He quickened his movements. As he whetted he began to day dream. He saw himself deep in the forest, hunting field rats, he saw himself making the chase. He saw the capture. He saw himself starting a small fire, and singing the hair off of the rats. Once the hair was completely removed, he split the rat in half. Then he slow roasted them. Until they were nice and brown. He was just about to start gnawing on a thigh when he was jolted from his reverie by a sharp pain on his hand. Looking down he realized he had cut himself with the simi. He scrutinized the wound. It wasn't too bad. As for the simi, if it was sharp enough to cut him, then it was ready. He picked up the sharpened weapons and begun making his way back to the training grounds.

 As he approached he realized the worst. The training had begun. He stood for a moment considering his options. Should he go back to avoid the inevitable confrontation? No he wouldn't. He decided to join the troops. They were organized into several blocks of nine rows of ten people each. There were several such blocks of warriors, each training a different tactic. The commander and his assistant were standing to the side watching keenly, throwing in a quick word every now and then. Perhaps he could sneak in unseen. But what of the weapons he now held? He decided just to join the groups without hiding. As he walked into the grounds he scanned the blocks to see where his friends had been placed. Aaah there was Tirie in the third group. He could not see the others. Tiries's block was practicing the spear. Each warrior took a stance, feet apart, shield held close. A quick movement with the shield-arm to strike the enemy and move his protection out of the way, then a lightning fast stab with the spear.

 Kiama walked slowly towards the group that Tirie was part of. He didn't get far. "YOU!! Warrior who is sneaking in, come here!.....QUICKLY!!" someone shouted from the direction of the regiment commander. Kiama's spirit sank. He turned and looked at where the regiment commander was standing. It was his assistant who had spoken, and was even now still pointing at him with a stout stick. This was trouble, kiama thought. He steeled himself to it and made his way to the shaded area near a tree where the commander was standing, his assistant flanking him. Kiama went down on one knee, slamming fist to chest. "I am here commander!".

"What is your name young man?" the assistant asked. "I am Kiama son of Warobi commander….I beg forgiveness for --"

"BE QUIET!" roared the assistant. The block that was training nearby stopped to stare. The assistant noticed this and turned to them. "Who said you could stop? EH? Goats all of you GOATS! RESUME!!!" he thundered. The warriors jumped and went back to training quickly. Meanwhile the regiment commander, Njoroge by name was staring at Kiama. He had been staring at the boy all along. Njoroge was a man in his middle age, with bushy eyebrows and a huge moustache and beard. Infact much of his face was covered in copious amounts of hair. He was well built but not fat. He held on to a spear that had a well-crafted shaft. Warpaint and various tribal adornments were on his hands and legs, including two wooden but hollowed pegs in each ear. He was tall and bore his largeness well. His assistant Kamande by name was much shorter, with a belly that was not yet done protruding. Looking at him one might have looked down on him but he was famous all over Anyaga territory for his ability with blades. And to give effect to his skills, he had various types of blades secreted all over his short body. Each arm had a metal guard over which a blade waited, snug against it. His chest was decorated with more than nine knives, which were all razor sharp. His waist had yet more knives including his short sword or simi. Add to this his exaggerated tribal markings of white chalk and warpaint and he made a spectacular sight. And it was said that despite his protruding belly and shortness, he was extremely swift in combat. Kiama had never seen him in combat. He had to believe the roumer.

 The assistant commander turned to Kiama. He brought his hands together at the front, and begun to play with a sheathed blade on his belt. He often did this just to keep his fingers busy and supple. Using two fingers, he would draw the blade until the tip almost left the sheath then slam it back in with a snap. His eyes never left Kiama's face. "What evil spirit gave you the imagination that you could come to training of the peacock regiment late?" he asked in a slow even voice. Kiama decided that sticking with the truth was all he had. "I was ordered by the senior warrior Njoka, son of mwenje, to go sharpen his weapons commander. I have just completed the task" kiama said, feeling the need to tremble but suppressed it.

 "WHAT…WHOooo? Repeat that name?"

"Njoka son of Mwenje, commander…. He gave me the task that has made me late." He said.

 For the first time, the regiment commander stirred. He turned to the regiment. "Njoka son of Mwenje, come forward!!" he shouted.

There was a sudden lull in the training. After a moment a warrior came running from the third block, went to one knee and saluted hand to chest. "Commander!!?"

The commander nodded to his assistant who fixed his eyes on Njoka. "This young warrior says you gave him the task of sharpening your weapons, a task that every warrior does for himself, and that is the reason he is late for this training. IS THIS TRUE?"

The warrior known as Njoka turned his face to look at Kiama quickly, swallowed saliva and then faced his questioner.

"Commander…I have given no such instructions to this young man…in fact I have been missing my spare blades and now I see he had them all along! He must --"

"SHUT UP!" screamed the assistant commander.

The warrior kept silent.

Clearly the assistant commander was fond of screaming. The regiment commander leaned in and whispered something to his assistant, who turned to kiama.

"Why did you accept to do as you were ordered? Why did you not resist or at least bring the matter to your immediate block leader?"

Kiama kept silent. The regiment commander pointed at Kiama. "That was cowardice. For that you shall receive two strong lashes. And YOU! Njoka son of Mwenje, shall receive four for your impudence and daring to lie to me! WARRIORS!!"

Warriors immediately ran to their commander.

"Carry out the sentence!"

War whops rang out clear. Njoka and Kiama were lifted and carried sky high to receive their due rewards, courtesy of their fellows. And that was the way discipline was kept high among the warriors.

  The next day Kiama woke up very sore. He tried turning his back to sleep on his side, and pain flared on his back. He could still feel the two massive lashes he had received. Nevertheless he felt satisfaction reminding himself that Njoka had received twice as many lashes. He stood up gingerly and made his way to his mothers hut. His sisters Njambi and Njeri were there. At the sight of him they broke into gales of laughter, with Njambi rolling on the floor. Their mother, who had been stirring some porridge boiling on the fire beamed at him. His sisters laughed hopelessly by the cooking place.

"Stop laughing at your brother, he has suffered enough …son come and take a mug of porridge".

Kiama went painfully to the fireplace, making a beeline for a three legged stool. He did not pay his sisters any attention. Their laughter had now turned to spontaneous giggles. "Is it still hurting son?" Asked his mother consolingly.

"It aches mother, but I can manage" he croaked, trying to sound careless, as if the issue did not matter. He held on to the surface of the stool, and then sat gingerly. As soon as his backside made contact he groaned loudly as agony erupted. One of the lashes had gone across his buttocks and up into his back. The welt had been bleeding and now was aching terribly.

His mother turned sharp eyes on his sisters who finally stopped giggling. Then she poured some hot porridge into a calabash and handed it to Kiama. As he was taking it and giving it a first shake to cool the fluid, his father put in his head.

"Son I hear you were whipped for letting the son of Mwenje misuse you…cowardice they say?"

"No father, I simply didn't want to start a fight….that Njoka has been picking on me for no good reason-"

"I understand son" his father said. "His father and I once had a disagreement regarding land. The son may have taken it personally. Just don't let him make use of you that way again. Report it to commander Kamande"

"Yes father" Kiama answered eyes closed. He shook the calabash then blew on his porridge again and took a small sip. His father, never a man to belabor a point moved on.

He felt relief…..it would not do for your father to think you a coward. Anyone else but not his father. He shifted his buttocks, grunting again as the pain flared afresh. He blew on his mug of porridge and took another small sip, focusing on the top layer which was cooler. This porridge tasted strange…..probably flour from the western parts of the sumbi ridge. Porridge made of flour from that area always tasted strange, but delicious. Well time to go and rest this here lashes. He had known there was no way he would escape unscathed, whether through defiance of Njoka or through punishment. At least this way less damage was done. Of course there was always the risk Njoka would now be looking for him. He pondered that for a while. It could happen. But he consoled himself that Njoka would not accept the humiliation of more lashes at this time. Perhaps he would do it indirectly through proxies. Yes perhaps there would be need to look out at the bushes the next few moons till Njoka's raw rage was spent in frustration. He decided to remind himself of that frequently.

 CHAPTER 2 THE WORK OF HENCHMEN

 Mukungu was an excited man. In fact if he looked at his hands he could see them trembling. He watched them tremble for a moment. Yes it was almost time, he mused to himself. Time to grab Kui, the girl of his dreams. But there was only one problem. It was common knowledge that Kui loved the warrior Mukwa Njugu. It was rumored that she was just waiting for the harvest season to end before running away to live with him. As usual, nothing much was known about Mukwa Njugu's intentions. He was silent about this as with most other matters.

 Mukungu rubbed his hands together with glee. He was a shrewd man. You don't get to be a member of the coveted council of elders that ruled Anyaga without being shrewd. Mukwa Njugu had no chance against such as himself, he mused. He would abduct the gal and then have his way with her. Afterwards custom and superiority would protect him, he reasoned in his heart. Once again he tilted his head back and set his shoulders upon the hut he was leaning on, to better dream about Kui. His mouth widened in a beatific smile. The smile that gladdens the faces of such as would imagine the best happening. The woman was something to behold. And those hips! He imagined himself separating her thunder thighs and sudden arousal hit him below the belt. He stood up in a huff and made his way towards where he was to meet his henchmen to give them his final instructions.

 Gitau and kanyutu were elder Mukungu's henchmen. They did not do his bidding out of love but fear. They belonged to the nyaga regiment, and were known cowards. Cowardice was heavily frowned upon by the Anyaga. It was not unknown for a regiment commander to stick his spear in the back of a coward or two. In fact it was encouraged. The two warriors had been removed from more than one sticky spot by none other than Mukungu, when brought before the council of elders. They needed him and he knew it. And they knew it too, and it infuriated them no end. Of the two, gitau was the cleverer. But kanyutu had the bigger mouth, and the appetite. You could not have known it to look at him. Kanyutu was stick thin. Gitau on the other hand was well built with a wide nose, which only a mother could love. Today they were seated on a small hill outside the village waiting for elder Mukungu. He had briefed them earlier on what he needed them to do and the two were nervous. They knew of the relationship between Kui and Mukwa Njugu. The man filled them with fear. It was this issue that they were infact discussing as they waited for Mukungu. Kanyutu, who was the more cowardly of the two, was trying to convince gitau to forget about this latest project from Mukungu.

 "I will not go!" Kanyutu said in a high pitched voice. "If you want to get circumcised the second time by Mukwa Njugu, go and assist to take his woman" he said vehemently, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. Gitau stared at his friend, his left arm up to fend off annoying splashes of spittle. In truth, he did not disagree with kanyutu, but the prospect of annoying Mukungu also did not sit well with him. "We will only assist him to catch the girl" he said, wearing his most persuasive face, "Mukungu can then decide what to do with her", you know we need him more than he needs us….at least for now."

 Kanyutu bent and picked up a nearby stick and begun prodding little holes near his big toe. He had a skeptical expression." I don't know….he begun…I cannot keep doing this…we cannot keep on being his trained dogs gitau…..this man could lead us into a den of hyenas" he grumbled looking away. "This will be the last time we assist him" said Gitau. At that very moment elder Mukungu appeared over the rise of the little hill, adjusting the blanket over the left shoulder.

 Pleasantries were quickly exchanged and dispensed with. It would not do to spend too much time with this rabble, thought Mukungu. Best to be done with it quickly.

"Now you both know the plan?" The two nodded, "good, then better be off. We want to finish this before nightfall, we don't want that warrior friend of hers returning from his hunt before were through. I will catch up with you at the hut".

 With that Mukungu made for the nearest bush. He intended to make himself seen at the council chambers lest things go wrong and the need for an alibi became necessary.

The two warriors moved off in the direction of the river. They knew village girls went for water near sundown every day. Where better to catch the girl than in the heavily wooded area near the exit from the river bank? Kanyutu led the way, walking briskly, now that the decision to do the deed had been made. It did not take them long to reach the spot which they had carefully chosen. It was on raised ground, but with sufficient shrubbery to hide them. From the vantage point, they could watch the path to the river without being seen.

 The two positioned themselves strategically. The evening had brought with it ravenous mosquitoes. Gitau slapped at one near his cheek, then scratched it with a curse. Kanyutu was faring no better. But the two kept a keen watch on the path. After a while they saw three women approaching. Kanyutu pinched gitau and pointed. The two tensed with expectation. Gitau had already seen that Kui was part of the group, in fact third in line. "let the two front ones pass then we make our move" he whispered. The other nodded his attention still on the women. The two took strips of clothing and tied them around their faces. They knew the other women could recognize them. Presently the women passed them, heavily laden with pots of water. They were deep in conversation. Kui was a short distance behind. As she was about to pass gitau launched himself at her, his powerful hand already going to her mouth, knowing she would instinctively scream. At the same time kanyutu jumped for the pot. He didn't want it to fall and smash. They had rehearsed this earlier, and they were hoping the noise would be as little as possible.

 Shock hit Kui like a thunderclap. Before she could scream, a hand was at her mouth and her pot went flying. Kanyutu anticipated its trajectory and dove for it, catching it just before it reached the ground, but due to the water it contained the weight was too much for him. He and the pot went down. Kui and gitau also hit the ground with a thud. Kui twisted ferociously but gitau was taking no chances. He locked his legs around her waist, one arm around her head the other tightly clamped on her mouth. They thrashed on the ground, while gitau recovered. The pot had strained him but he came to take hold of Kui's legs, who by now was kicking viciously and trying to bite gitau. The sounds of their struggles and panting had been heard by the other women, who turned back cautiously, obviously frightened. Kanyutu picked his spear and headed towards them at a run, menacingly. To the women he looked like a scarecrow come alive in the gathering gloom. The two let out piercing screams and dropping their pots, made off at full speed. Kanyutu, did not chase them much but turned back to help his friend. Together they quickly tied up Kui, and stuffed some rugs into her mouth. They then made off into the forest at a trot, carrying her between them.

 The hut they were heading for was deep inside the forest and they wanted to reach it before total darkness. They stumbled through the gathering dusk in silence. Kui still struggled vainly but the two did not seem to notice, intent on reaching their destination. Presently they came to an area of thick foliage and they threw her unceremoniously on the ground. Kanyotu collapsed in a heap exhausted. Gitau moved to the shrubbery and clutching a branch, heaved outwards. An entire wall of cleverly disguised shrubs opened up to expose a dark interior. "kanyutu!" Shouted gitau glaring at him angrily, "is this the time to flatten yourself on the floor?" Lets get this done!

 Kanyutu stood up sullenly and together they heaved the girl into the makeshift hut. She was placed on a makeshift bed of logs. The inside was very dark, but they had a lamp set strategically. It was quickly lit and the two made sure she was properly tied down on the bed. Then they departed.

 Kui was left staring up at the only light in the room, a wick that burned in a small pot of oil. She trembled in fear. She struggled to release herself. The knots were too tight. She begun rocking herself side to side and shortly fell to the floor with a grunt. She had to get free! Her mind screamed. She began undulating her body towards the entrance of the hut, like a snake. If she could only get outside, she could hide somewhere till help came, she thought. Just as she reached the opening, it swung outside and Mukungu stepped in, shutting the shrub door after him.

 CHAPTER 3 THE AFRICAN RED ANT

 Kwaria Muniu, our leader had a somber look on his face. He stood and observed the proceedings reflectively. The shaft of his knobkerrie was tucked under his armpit, and he stood at an angle like one surveying his herd of cows. Everywhere was a flurry of movement. The Maa-rati were gathered around their warrior, and we around Mukwa Njugu.

 "Kinyua!" Kwaria Muniu called. Kinyua rushed to our leader's side. Muniu whispered a few words after which kinyua rushed off to the Maa-rati leader. He whispered a few more words and the Maa-rati leader approached our leader. His warriors moved with him without a word being uttered.

 "Warriors gather!" Muniu intoned at which we sprang up and gathered around our leader. Warriors of the fire regiment never needed a second word. We were like finely honed steel razors. We moved as fluidly to flank our leader. Muniu gestured to kinyua."Translate", then he turned to us. "Sword brothers, today we have gained friends. Today we shall feast as one, for today none defeated the other". He then turned to the Maa-rati leader, 'if it pleases you great warrior, today our people shall feast together, for all have won"

 At this word the Maa-rati warriors watched their leader keenly. He looked pointedly at Muniu, and then smiled. He spoke a few words and kinyua translated. "My liege, he says that his people are honored to eat with us, and he also congratulates our warrior. He says Mukwa Njugu fought well and deserved to win. At this whoops of glee sprung up from both sides. Two warriors immediately rushed to get the dead duiker and string it from the branch of a tree. Others rushed off into the bushes to get firewood. I moved off to where Mukwa Njugu was recuperating, spanned by two warriors, ndung'u and mote. He smiled when he saw me, tried to sit up but the two warriors pushed him back down.

 I came close so he wouldn't have to strain. "You were great" I said. He nodded gravely, "I almost didn't make it", he turned his head slightly and winced in pain, "that child is fast….!" I smiled amused. I'm sure the warrior in question would not have taken kindly to being called a child. I held his shoulder, "you need to rest, and we shall be covering a lot of ground tomorrow". Don't worry about me, he said. I'll make it."

 I stood up and looked around. The duiker had been strung up and was quickly being skinned. Shortly afterwards it was cut up into many small hunks and placed on top of a specially prepared fire. The wood gathered around was allowed to burn and then green branches were placed on top. The meat was then piled above the branches and each piece was cut up and eaten as soon as it was roasted. Warriors never allowed meat to roast for long, preferring to devour it while it was still red and hot. I tell you that this kind of meat, eaten in the atmosphere of camaraderie, was indeed delicious. More delicious than the best home roasted meat. But most warriors here would not have admitted this to their wives. It's no wonder we always had more warriors volunteering for this missions than we needed. There was a lot to be discovered, danger even. And warriors thrived on danger.

 We parted with the Maa-rati at dawn the following day. They made off into the bushes, seeming to merge into the green of the gnarled baobabs and surrounding shrubbery. After our feast of meat, we had divided the remaining bits into two equal piles. We cut our half into strips and packed it in pouches for later dismemberment.

 The journey took us through lush savanna. The countryside was beautiful with wildebeest and zebra scattered in small clumps everywhere. We kept a keen watch for lions for we knew where wildebeest was to be found, lions could not be far. We walked in single file, with little conversation among us. Kwaria Muniu was leading as usual, looking no nonsense, and frowning at everything on the path. Behind him was, ndun'gu, a stout warrior, followed by kanyonga and mote. I was among the last, keeping my pace measured so Mukwa Njugu would not feel left out.

 Suddenly I noticed that the warrior in front of me had frozen, in fact I almost bumped into him. I cursed myself silently. This was inexcusable! Had I been paying attention and not focusing on the injuries of Mukwa Njugu, I would have noticed that our leader had given the signal to freeze.

 Looking up I noticed that every warrior was a stone, immovable; all in the last pose the hand signal had caught them in.

 Now I need to mention that the fire regiment warriors have mastered the technique of freezing to an art form. This technique wholly depended on paying attention to your regiment commander. The warriors froze and then gently, as if wafting on a slight wind moved sideways and down till their chins were below the tall grass, ever alert. One word was whispered from man to man until it reached Mukwa Njugu and me. "Lions!" said the warrior ahead of me.

 This word filled us with tension, and I regret to admit, some elemental, deep seated fear, that no one would have admitted to. Crouched down, our chins next to the soil, we scanned the distance for signs of the big cats. I could see nothing, and I gave credit to our leader that he had been able to spot them. At a signal from Muniu, we melted sideways, moving softly on our toes and fingers, skirting the area the lions were. We must have been downhill of them since I did not see an indication they had spotted us. It was tedious, crawling on our toes and fingers, but under the circumstances, we had no option

 After quite some moving, at which point I realized my fingers would give up on me at any moment, Muniu lifted his fist. We stopped crawling. I dared lift up my head slightly from the ground and I could see the lion pride, but it was at a distance. We did not stop to indulge but continued in haste. Perhaps Kwaria Muniu wanted us as far away from the lions as possible.

 Midday found us near a small hill deep in savanna country. Trees dotted the countryside here and there. Most were thorny, but there were a few we could shelter under. Muniu called a pause. The sun was blazing and it would only sap our energies needlessly if we continued. Even predators do not hunt when its hot. We took refuge under some trees. Warriors scattered themselves and meat pouches were hastily produced. I went to change Mukwa Njugu's bandage, which really was a few rugs wrapped around a poultice of green herbs.

 The African red ant is a huge creature. And intelligent too. It makes use of numbers. It will slowly crawl up your leg with its cohorts, softly enough so you will not feel it. After reaching up your leg, and snuggling next to your testicles (since that is the warmest palace it can find), it will pause. You on the other hand will turn to get into a more comfortable position and the ant will sense danger. It has a huge pair of pincers which once they bite down, there is no reverse. The pain is especially excruciating. It has been described to be bright red with some undertones of scarlet, not unlike the burn of a flame.

 Ndung'u had fallen asleep. Many warriors would take the opportunity of our short break to take a quick nap. We still had a long distance to go to reach the Maa-rati pasture fields. Suddenly we heard a piercing scream. Ndung'u leapt high into the air. All warriors went down in a flash, expecting spears or new predators. Eyes trained on ndung'u who had by now come back to earth and was thrashing viciously amidst muttered curses, removing his blanket and loincloth.

 I could not tell what exactly was happening until i heard one of the warriors, kihara start laughing loudly, shortly joined by kanyonga and mote. "Red ants", said mote.

 Muniu did not laugh. "Help him remove them!" He shouted to the laughing duo. They ran to ndung'u and begun picking red ants from him. The rest of the warriors sniggered as the ants were picked of – with ndung'u making muffled screams when a particularly belligerent ant clamped down on a left testicle. Even Mukwa Njugu and myself had to laugh. Ndung'u looked comical, jumping up and down without a loin cloth, while kihara and kanyonga tried to get a grip on the fat behind of a red ant, hanging on for dear life.

 Back in the hut, elder Mukungu stared at Kui, lying on the floor. She was still tied up but not blindfolded. There was a small lamp in the room, a wick that burned in a small pot of oil. Kui recognized Mukungu straight away. "Wh-…what do you want with me?" She asked in a small voice. "Where do you think you're trying to go?" Asked Mukungu, ignoring her question. Without waiting for her response he picked her up and deposited her on the makeshift bed, and sat next to her. He did not untie her. He could see by the meager light that she had been crying. He put out his hand and tenderly wiped her cheeks. "please elder Mukungu, let me go...I promise this matter will not be known to anyone....I promise my lips are sealed, I will tell no one plea-!" The girl was bubbling amidst sobs.

"Quiet!" Roared elder Mukungu. He continued considering her for a while. "I know Mukwa Njugu is the man that you love…" he begun in a quiet voice. "But I want you...and I shall have you!"

 "If you cooperate with me, I shall make you my third and favorite wife", he continued. My home is wealthy, unlike that of your warrior friend. You can have anything you wish for in my home. Therefore do not struggle and I will untie you". He looked at her fiercely and she nodded slowly. He proceeded to untie her slowly, keeping his eyes trained on hers, but pinching her bosom and behind as he reached those parts, causing her to jump in spite of her bonds.

 Kui waited patiently squirming forcefully upwards each time her flesh was pinched, but uttering not a sound. She lay passively after her body was untied, waited until Mukungu reached her feet. As soon as the bonds were removed she jumped up with all her strength and dove for the door.

 But Mukungu had been expecting her to do just that, and he was faster. He moved to block her trajectory and the two crashed into each other. A titanic battle begun between the young woman and the elder, with each grunting from the effort.

Mukungu had been a ferocious warrior in his youth and his experience came into play. Soon he was on top of Kui, who rained slaps and kicks on him, attempting to catch hold of a part of his anatomy so she could bite. Mukungu realized that to win, he had to move fast. Blocking a slap, he brought his fist hard against her chin. The gal went limp.

Mukungu quickly pulled up her makeshift waist cloth. Arousal hit him powerfully as he separated her thunder thighs and placed himself strategically between them. Just as he was about to lie on her, the door crashed open inwards and a strange light filled the room.

Mukungu jumped back with a surprised oath, scanning the entrance to see who this was that had dared interrupt him. The light was blinding him and he shaded his hands to see better. It appeared the figure who filled the doorway was feminine…yes definitely a woman, old and dressed in skins made of colobus monkey hides. She was also covered in numerous cowrie shells and she held a stout staff in one hand with a strange crystalline stone wedged at the top. It was the stone that gave off the eerie light that seemed like cold fire. Her other hand held a cane. She stood observing him silently her stare fixed upon him, seeming to transfix him like a dagger.

Suddenly she moved towards him and without a word, started caning him ferociously. Mukungu screamed and darted towards the makeshift bed, his eyes searching vainly for his staff. The woman did not let up, caning any and every part her stick could reach. Welts appeared on Mukungus's arms as he brought them up to protect his face, eyes searching wildly for anything to defend himself and seeing nothing. He realized that if his only salvation lay in getting out of that room into the night. He dove towards the door as the canes rained on him, the old lady neither stopping him, nor reducing her caning zeal.

Mukungu jumped out of the room running for his life into the forest. Just outside, he tripped and fell with a bone jarring thud, but stood and continued running. The old woman watched him run for a moment then turned her attention to the girl, curled obscenely on the ground. Laying her staff against the wall she tenderly covered her and then carried her gently to the bed. Kui woke up a few minutes later, jumping up with a scream as memory returned. The old woman held her down.

"Hush child there is no serious harm done, you will live", she murmured. Kui looked at her, fright in her eyes.

"Who are you…where is elder Mukungu?"

"Hush, hush, child so many questions. You are in shock child. All will be made clear in due time. For now lie back and relax".

 Her voice was musical but deep, lulling and soothing to the ear. Kui lay back and closed her eyes. She did not feel unsafe; in fact she realized to her shock that she was quite tired and drowsy. The old woman continued to murmur soothing words and Kui slept.

The next morning, Kui was woken up by a ray of sunlight which was increasing the heat across her body. She sat up with a start and looked around. She was alone. The old woman was gone. It seemed like yesterday had been a dream. She stood up and walked to the rough door. The left side of her face hurt, where elder Mukungu's fist had connected. She pulled back the door and went into the sunshine. The light was harsh against her eyes so she held up her eyes to shade them. Which way was home, she wondered. She was seething with anger against elder Mukungu and his two cohorts. She started off in the direction she figured could be towards home. After about ten minutes of walking in the deep undergrowth, she realized that she had never come this far into the forest. What if she was walking in circles? The thought fed a cold chill into her heart. Confusion suddenly hit her and she sat down to think.

A sudden tap of a cane on her shoulders made her jump in fear, looking round. The old woman stood behind where she had been sitting, staring at her fixedly. How she had reached that point without being heard, Kui could only speculate.

 "mmmmh, the child is lost, she wonders how to get home, yet home she shall not go, duty is heavier than a mountain." Her voice came out like a brook flowing over soft stones; yet strong enough to clearly reach Kui whose mouth was open. "Who are you and why are you following me?" Kui asked unsteadily.

"Who I am matters little", she intoned, whom you shall be matters much more". Kui licked her lips in sudden fear. This woman was strange and she could not remember having seen her in the village. Collobus skins and cowries shells adorned her whole body. Her feet were bare and the staff she carried had an odd looking stone at the top. "Can you show me how to get to Anyaga village? Kui asked. 'I'm lost"

 "You are found child, and to the village you belong no more" the woman continued looking at Kui warmly. "You are fated to greater things!"

Kui was dumbfounded. "You have not told me who you are, yet you speak my fate. What do you mean?"

The old woman looked around their surroundings. "Come!, I will show you. Time grows short, yet a great war is coming. Blood will be shed and you must be ready. Come!" She strode towards where Kui was standing, passed her and went on into the forest fully expecting her to follow. Kui paused for a moment looking back she could not tell which way was home. It would not do to be left here to die through hunger or being torn by wild animals. Perhaps the old woman knew the way home. She rushed to catch up with her.

The old woman just glanced at her, as if sure she would follow. "Where are we going" Kui asked. "In time child, in time", the woman said, eyes still focused ahead. This part of the forest was thick, and care had to be taken to navigate the numerous branches that threatened to tear at her face. They walked on in silence till it seemed there was no path to pass through. At one point they used a path that had been created by an elephant. Kui could see its huge clumpy foot prints and they looked fresh! She glanced at the old woman to see if she had noted but the woman seemed not at all disturbed. Shortly afterwards they came to a huge baobab tree. The woman stopped, one hand resting against the sides of the huge trunk. Behind the baobab was a rocky outcrop that was covered in lichens and creepers in various shades of color, although light green dominated.

The old woman turned and looked at Kui. "This is where I live child" a small smile played at the corners of her mouth as if reading Kuis mind. Kui looked around incredulously. There was no entrance to be seen anywhere. "Look there" the lady pointed outwards. Kui turned to look but could see nothing. She turned round to say it and alas, there was no woman at the tree. Stunned, Kui felt weak at the knees. Surely she could not have run so first. It's impossible. She sat down where she was to puzzle it out. Just as she was chewing her lips in alarm and furious thought, a panel on the oak slid aside and the lady stepped out.

She motioned to Kui to follow her. "Come!" Kui hurried up. They both entered through the opening and disappeared inside.

CHAPTER 4 THE CLASHING OF SPEARS

The warriors in Maa-rati territory conferred. But first Muniu sent forth some scouts to read the land and bring word. Then we settled to consider strategy. There was general consensus that we needed to strike fast at a wealthy manyatta. The team was divided into three. One team to round up the cattle, one to cover them and another for the women.

Each team consisted of five warriors. Three scouts were in the field. Mukwa Njugu and myself were to go with the group for the women because of njugu's injury. Muniu would lead the group after the cattle. He always went where fighting would be hottest. Discussions over, there was nothing else to do but prepare. Swords and spears were produced and warriors begun sharpening already sharp blades. Later, they tried to sleep, but sleep came hard. We were too excited.

About midnight the scouts came back. They had discovered a sizeable Maa-rati manyatta not far off, and they had many cattle. There didn't seem to be a large number of Maa-rati guarding it. We could manage the guards comfortably. In hindsight, I admit that I got an uneasy feeling at this news. Maa-rati leaving themselves unguarded so carelessly? Impossible! But I was not the commander. Muniu was, and his word was law. We deployed and trotted towards the enemy manyattas. The ground had all sorts of unseen obstacles including thorns and jagged stones. If one did not watch one's foot, there was a possibility of arriving a cripple.

The night was indeed dark even though I could see half a moon. The enthusiasm was increasing steadily. I had been assigned a team of five men including Mukwa Njugu, who, though wounded, was not complaining. We moved cautiously, on silent feet, through the bushes. Our main aim was to capture and secure as many Maa-rati women of marriageable age as possible. But I was uneasy. I had an itch at the back of my neck which told me I was walking into a trap, so I told my men to be extra vigilant. No conversations could take place during a raid but body language says everything. Every warrior is expected to watch the surroundings as well as their commander keenly for a signal.

It did not take us long to view the manyattas from afar. We immediately went down flat on the ground and begun creeping like snakes towards our target. I knew the other teams were doing the same, eyes peeled for guards. I have always prided myself on my night vision but it was kanyonga, one of my team members, who saw the first guards. These ones looked to be young, bored and very sleepy. They were sitting on a small termite mound with their spears planted on the ground beside them. I could hear the murmurs of their soft conversation, and they seemed to be arguing about something, perhaps a woman. We crouched motionless, watching them. My mind was working overtime on the fastest way to put them out of action. I motioned for kanyonga and mote to come closer.

I did not have to brief them. They knew their role. Both of them crept forward and separated slightly, each selecting a target. I saw knobkerries poised in the dim light and then double thuds, as they found their targets. The two Maa-rati dropped soundlessly.

The rest of us moved quickly. The Maa-rati were tied up with bowstrings and their mouths stopped with rugs. We resumed creeping closer and closer to the manyattas. We had occasion to silence two more Maa-rati s in a similar way and at last we were at the entrance of our first manyatta. I presumed our fellow warriors were doing well on the other side towards the cattle pens since I hadn't heard any sign of an alarm given. We wanted to be as silent as ghosts even as we abducted these succulent women. I stood guard as my warriors entered into the manyatta. I could hear thuds and deep groans as well as sounds of struggle. Shortly afterwards my men immerged with two bundles well trussed up with ropes. They were wriggling wildly, more signs that we had a goodly live load that would no doubt give a warrior sleepless nights.

We moved on to the next mayatta and the next until we had eight women well bound, gagged and guarded.

That is when everything went wrong. Horribly wrong. In hindsight, I say till this day that I should have trusted my instincts. You see my instincts are never wrong. I am the one who is usually wrong, but my instincts? Never!

We were just about to enter the ninth manyatta when I heard a piercing whistle emanating from the cattle pens. All of a sudden I saw a group of men running towards us and they didn't look like our warriors. Their gleaming spears had the distinct characteristics of Maa-rati . At the same time I heard the shrieks and howls of battle and dying men. I could also dimly see that the numbers running towards us were likely to outnumber us but my blood sang. Fire entered my heart and my spear felt as if it was throbbing in my palms.

"Close ranks!" I shouted. "Let's see how tough their skins are!" And I ran fiercely towards the Maa-rati , flanked by kanyonga and mote. I turned aside the first spear with the edge of my shield pivoted and sunk my blade into ribs. I did not even stop to see whether my opponent had fallen but jumped at the second. To my right I could see two warriors, their spears worrying at kanyonga's shield the way mongrels worry at a bone. The skirmish was joined.

My spear blocked a downward thrust that would have slid into my belly, and in the same movement I kicked blindly at the Maa-rati . Before I could finish him off a knobkerrie touched my thigh and it went numb. Even so the owner tasted the hard knob of mine as I rammed it fully into his mouth. He fell to the side spewing blood. Thus we fought, against huge odds that were increasing by the minute. My right thigh was letting me down, and I had not a second to look at my fellow warrior and see how they were faring. I was defending now against three sturdy warriors. Their spears licking in and out like lizards tongues. They could smell victory. I could see none of my sword brothers and I knew I was not going to last the next three minutes without one of those spears in my side.

 The decision was taken from me when a blast of the battle horn from our commander shattered the night. We all knew that particular blast and what it meant. I put down my shield and spear, knobkerrie and dagger. Out of fifteen warriors, six lost their lives and two were seriously wounded. Actually all of us were wounded but some more than others.

My heart sank within me. The worst had happened. The warriors of the fire regiment were going to surrender. But the Maa-rati warrior's anger could not let things be even after our surrender. One of them struck me at the back of my head with the butt of the knobkerrie and I saw darkness.

I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again. A furious flash of pain hit the back of my head. I was on fire, aching all over. I opened my eyes again – slowly, and looked around. I was tied hand and foot. I could see a few of our warriors around me, also tied the same way. It was early dawn and it seems we were in a cattle enclosure. I looked around more as my eyes became accustomed to the light. I could see that Mukwa Njugu had survived the fight, and kinyua, ah yes, and our regiment commander Kwaria Muniu. He was trussed up against a post, but still wore a defiant sneer.

I could also see some warriors were missing. Kimende son of mbuthia, a young warrior who had just recently taken a wife was absent. And njogu, a third son, brave and utterly fearless, and rash too. Perhaps a good reason as to why he was not present. More warriors were absent. My head felt like it was splitting. All the blood in my body semed to be part of a brass gong that was beating at my temple. Boom! Boom! Boom!

I decided to focus my mind else where. Apparently we had become the village entertainment. Crowds of Maa-rati children were gathered in small knots watching us. Every now and then one would take a clod of cow dung and throw at us. Some of their women were doing the same thing. We were guarded; it seemed by three stout warriors. One of them was speaking to the other in a very fast and singsong tone. Kinyua spoke without being asked.

"My liege, they say the council is seating to decide our fate. Both warriors think we shall be beheaded before dusk."

Muniu sat up at kinyuas words and stared at the distant horizon. The sun was just beginning to show up, slashing the sky red and orange. "listen and translate" he said without looking at kinyua. Nothing could discourage this man.

 At this moment I began to speculate how kinyua had come to learn the language of the Maa-rati . Though I know his mother had come from these people, yet it could not have been easy to speak their tongue when everyone else spoke Anyaga. I wondered why it was necessary to tie our wrists and feet yet we were guarded. And so tight, I rather feared my fingers might thirst from lack of blood flow. I began to flex them vigorously against my thighs. Perhaps some action would cause a trickle to flow in.

I could see where Mukwa Njugu lay, apparently asleep. I crawled uncomfortable towards him until I was next to him. I could see he was breathing regularly. The swelling at the nape of his neck had gone down. He was also tied as we were, but seemed more comfortable somehow. "I am missing the meat we ate yesterday" he growled. I felt like laughing. I didn't think he had seen me come up. And to be thinking of meat at this time. Outrageous! In fact a chuckle escaped my mouth. I immediately hissed as a sharp pain hit my head. I was going to have a bad headache. "How bad were you hit?" He asked opening his eyes.

"Just my head, with the bad end of a knobkerrie.

"My heart knew we were being lured but I said nothing. It was too easy", he murmured

"I felt the same thing too but I also said nothing" I must trust my instincts, I told myself.

"I wonder what Kui is doing now"

I smiled. It was unlike Mukwa Njugu to reveal his soft spot for the girl or for any one for that matter. But strange things happen when you know it will be a miracle to survive the day.

I was saved from answering by a Maa-rati who came to join the one's already guarding us. A heated conversation begun with the newcomer seemingly briefing the others. One of them spat furiously and thrust his spear hard against the ground and said something with much heat and anger. The others spoke, seeming to pacify him. Kinyua spoke in a whisper. "My liege, it seems there's a deadlock in their council. One of their leader's wants us beheaded right away, but their chief wants to wait for the seer. It seems their seer went off two moons ago, and is due back at the next moon. Many are not happy at the chiefs thinking," he mentioned this with a brief turn of his head towards the Maa-rati warrior who was still fuming.

The warrior who had brought the news replaced another who sped of in the direction of the manyattas. By now the children who were ogling us had been chased away and life in the village seemed to have gone back to normal. I could see cows being milked and others being herded together in preparation to go to the grazing fields. Old men carrying leather bags and stools made off in a certain direction. Young boys and girls were busy herding the goats and calves in yet another direction. Time went slowly. And the sun came up with a fury. We roasted in silence, sweat getting into wounds, and making men whimper without knowing it.

At about midday some warriors came to the pen where we were kept. The bonds on our feet were cut and we were lifted up roughly. Under tight guard, we were pushed in the direction of the manyattas. I could hear kinyuas whisper. "We have been summoned by the council". "Everyone walk proud", growled Kwaria Muniu, our commander. We immediately thrust out our chests. If these Maa-rati were going to execute us, then they would see what manner of men they faced. We were taken down a dirt path to an area behind most manyattas. The clearing had a tree under which sat about twenty elders of varying ages. All had long dry sticks which they held as if about to whip someone. We approached the elders and were halted about six paces from them.

The elders considered us for a long moment. We fidgeted at their long gaze. One of them who seemed to be a leader among them spoke a few words directed at the warriors who had brought us. The warriors shook their heads with bewildered expressions. We could not understand what they were saying. Kinyua spoke a few words to the elder. As the words left his mouth, one of the warriors made for him knobkerrie lifted. A sharp word from the elder halted him. The elder turned to kunyua and spoke some more words to him.

My liege he says he is chief muguto ole nkuruon. The council has been deciding what to do with us. It is the council's opinion that rather than exterminate us like the roaches we are, they will wait for the seer, who is due back by the next moon.

 At this word the chief smiled broadly, taking us all in with his glance.

 "Tell the chief that we are warriors of the fire regiment and shall take whatever comes like men" Muniu growled. Even now he was not cowed. Kinyua translated. The chief appeared about to say something but before he could do so, a group of warriors came towards us running at a slow trot. They could be about forty warriors with shields and gleaming spears, fierce looking men. Their knobkerries were thrust into rawhide belts at their waist. They wore skins decorated with red ochre, and their hair was braided. At their head was a striking man with massive shoulders. He held his spear as if it was a twig. He also had a cruel face that seemed to be permanently sneering.

 They came to a halt a few metres from where we were standing. The man strode on alone and faced the chief. Some words were uttered by him directed not at the chief but at the council. Kinyua translated in whispers.

 "My liege he is asking what the decision of the council in regard to us will be. He asks whether his troops can exterminate us. He says it will not take long."

The chief gazed at the newcomer with calm eyes. He spoke for a while, pointing at us every now and then. I could see the newcomer's face growing darker and darker with fury until at a certain point he rammed his spear hard into the ground with an oath.

 'My liege the chief has just told the newcomer, Lengoibon is his name, that the decision is not to kill us but to await the seer's verdict.

In the meantime we are to be worked hard under guard'. The newcomer turned round on his heel and trotted back to his men who trotted out with him. The chief and the other elders watched them leave, their faces unfathomable. The chief spoke a few words to our jailers and we were pushed and shoved towards the cattle pen. Fortunately we were to spend the night not in the open cattle enclosure as I had feared but in a nearby manyatta. We were squeezed in and our bonds cut. We knew the entrance was guarded of course, but none was at that moment thinking of escape. Just to sit and think.