‘Miss,’ he said, ‘I beg of you, accept my apology. I could not know what would eventuate. I never intended for you to come to any harm, nor your father. I cannot expect you to believe me or to forgive me. I did you wrong and no matter this business, I will not forget.’

I was surprised at the fury I felt, my unsteadiness on the cross-currents of sadness and worry for him. I lowered my eyes and said nothing; I regret it now.

He took himself outside and walked to the top of the first rise beyond the house, placed the gun at his side and waited. There was no point him heading off until the men had cleared the lowlands. The hours passed, the light turned and he stood there alone.

Clouds tumbled by. The birds went about their fraught lives. The sea attended the rocks. He was not their business. My sense of him was that he was always someone else’s business.

One by one the parties came in, each leaving a single armed man behind to watch their position. They had not turned up the doctor, meaning that he could be nowhere else but on the high ground. They had ventured two thirds of the way up the slopes, then turned back, satisfied that they had cornered him. To push further, when they had positions around the peak on all sides, was to risk confusion and injuries by crossfire.

When the last of them had come in, Srinivas turned to us and said, ‘Very well, then.’ And he walked away.

THE PINNACLE

THE PINNACLE

It was early evening by the time Srinivas set off.

Smith said we had at least three hours of light. It would take him two, he said, to pick his way up the tracks made by the livestock. Having no interest in the summit, the animals had worn contours around the peak over the years but never headed vertically towards it. Srinivas would have to break into the tussocks at some stage and improvise the rest.

I sat by his son, keeping a respectful distance. Big ants marched around in the sand: the boy watched one and flicked it away when it came too close. We watched his father’s back, the light upon it. He walked with the gun’s muzzle down, no haste, no state of readiness, for he was still outside the circle that the men had formed around the peak. His head was cast down. He was concentrating on his feet, but it made him look penitent. Unforgiven.