The colonel-en-second looked down at Johannes, crumpled and holding his shoulder, unable to stand up. For a moment he thought to spur his horse on, leave the matter alone. There was so much else to do today, tomorrow, and all the days following. But he turned to one of the aides-de-camp on his left. He’d had an idea and, when they came unbidden like that, he always regarded them as gifts. They had never denied him pleasure and reward, as he’d never failed to act upon them.

‘Have this man attended to,’ he said, pointing at Johannes. ‘And bring him to me in the morning.’

‘Yes, Colonel.’

‘He’s to be our new regiment drummer. Understood?’

‘Yes, Colonel.’

Colonel-en-second Freuler swung his horse around and galloped away, pleased with himself and his magnanimity.

RESOLUTIONS

In the morning, the oak trees were dark with rain and shrouded in mist. The birdcalls were soft, tentative, the world still and contained, like a church.

One by one, they stepped out of the carriage, weary and silent, only the creak of springs to disturb the quiet, as the carriage leaned in and out of the shifting weight.

The driver wanted to head immediately for the next village to notify the authorities and hire fresh horses.

‘Some apples and walnuts,’ he said, handing over a bucket that he kept for his now-stolen team. Then he took two or three quick pulls on the bottle of brandy he kept under the seat for himself. ‘I’ll leave you this, too.’

‘You’re a kind man,’ Wesley Lewis Jr said, taking the bottle.

‘Well, hopefully I won’t be too long.’

‘Shouldn’t we all go?’ Krüger said. ‘Together?’

‘I’m not walking anywhere,’ Wesley Lewis Jr said. ‘And Mr Hendrik’s got his lovely limp to contend with.’

The carriage driver said, ‘There’s no need. And I’d appreciate an eye on the carriage.’

It had been an uncomfortable night and they’d been robbed and his horses were gone, but as the driver cut through the woods to reach the road, there was some sense of relief. He was glad to leave the strange trio of men behind.

They stood around the carriage eating the apples and cracking walnuts.

‘How long do you think he’ll take?’ Krüger said.

Mr Hendrik shrugged.

‘Years,’ Wesley Lewis Jr said and threw his half-eaten apple into the trees. Then he took the bottle of brandy up into the driver’s seat and stretched out across it, an arm behind his head. ‘Wake me up when he gets back.’

Mr Hendrik and Krüger cracked more walnuts and looked out into the trees.

Nobody spoke and each man drifted into his thoughts. Krüger saw Hilde, Mr Hendrik his sister. Wesley Lewis Jr swigged at the brandy with his eyes closed and resumed his contempt for everyone and everything, particularly the Negro.