//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: The Burning Land // by Fire-Storm //------------------------------// Validation The cold night air swirled around Jakobus’ new coat as he swung up into the saddle. The heavy heavy home-grown cotton and dense material settled across his shoulders as if tailored for him, its buttoned front left open, and its shoulder straps holding his heavily loaded bandoliers of ammunition in place. New boots, new trousers, a new hat and a brand new rifle left him feeling extraordinarily confident in victory. The British could never compete with such strong men as these. Each man clothed differently, and yet they looked more professional than the entire British Expeditionary Force in Jakobus’ eyes. Mousers slung before them, loaded saddle bags decorating their steed’s flanks, and grim smiles on every face, these were a special breed, salt of the earth soldiers, fighting for their homes. And no one ever did it better. Jakobus was anything but objective; even he could hear the sentimentality in those thoughts, but he didn’t care. He was relieved to be there at all. “So,” He nodded to the man beside him, a bearded hulk of a farmer, “You have heard my name. May I hear yours?” “you can call me Dawid Van Rensburg sir.” Kobus nodded curtly. “A good name. Of the Koffiefontein Van Rensburgs?” “No unfortunately not, sir, though we are related by an uncle.” The other man added conversationally. “Ah,” Kobus nodded, flicking his reins over, “I was good friends with Mathies Van Rensburg in my younger days. Tell me, though, these men, have you all worked together much?” Dawid twisted in his saddle and pointed out a few men, who took it as a signal to ride up alongside their new leader. “That is Henk de Bruin, lieutenant de Bruin’s nephew. That there is Andries Swart, of the Thaba 'Nchu Swarts, and this,” He gestured towards a sullen-looking man riding alongside them, “And this is Willem Geldenhuis. These men have fought with me, and each other, many times before. All of these men are well fielded and expert hunters. I have seen many of them fight over the past year, and couldn’t ask for better men. Would you like me to introduce to them?” Jakobus nodded. “Please do, Dawid, I would like to know the men fighting at my side.” With a smile and a glint to his eye, Dawid happily complied. ***** After about two and a half hours of riding, the landscape became familiar to Kobus. He decided to have the men start to set-up the camp while he would scout out the rest of the way on foot. “Right you men, set-up camp for the night here. I am going to scout ahead on foot, I will be back before sunset. Oh! almost forgot, if you hear gunfire come and help me... carry back the khaki I shot!” With that Kobus walked away to a chorus of rowdy laughter. He snuck cautiously to his destination, Keeping his distance this time around. Kobus had spotted a butte that would give a full view of the camp the last time he was there, but he hadn’t climbed it because he would not have been able to take a shot at that range and be sure of his target. This time, however, it would serve his needs nicely. He walked to the side facing away from the camp lest someone spot him. This was a well loved pastime and practical skill of the Afrikaans people in general, earning them the title of ‘Rock spider’. Kobus had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed rock-climbing, but those pleasant childhood memories of hiking and climbing with his friends came flooding back as he scrambled up the face. From more or less halfway up the steep talus, he could see for miles, the flat golden landscape seeming to go on forever. It was beautiful. That beauty in that moment was surpassed only by the view from the peak itself. Looking away from the camp, Kobus found himself muttering, “I wish Marie could see this...” After savouring the memory of his beloved wife, he turned and walked towards the camp,bellying out and crawling up to the very edge.. From his vantage point, Kobus could see the whole camp, the rows of tents and the officers quarters arrayed in neat rows. Kobus drafted a rough map of the camp and the surrounding area to aid in planning the attack. Kobus marked the tents on his map accordingly; infirmary, barracks, officers quarters and prisoners tents. Not to mention the vast array of small hovel-like tents that the English considered good enough for the wives and children of their enemies... It was beginning to get late and Kobus still had a ways to go before dark. ***** Kobus got back to his men who had already set up the camp and were enjoying some properly spiked ‘Boeretroos’. One would swear it was more ‘Mampoer’ than Coffee. Dawid gave Kobus a mug of what he thought was coffee, he took a big swig and regretted it... “ahhhh ssss whooo!, do you men want some coffee in your whiskey?” The men laughed at their leaders reaction, some even jokingly declining his offer. After finishing his coffee Kobus stood-up to address his men. “Brothers, we are here to do a job. You all know what we are here to do. This is not going to be a briefing that will happen tomorrow, for now I want you to sleep. Rest your minds and bodies so that we may have strength for the task that is at hand. And one more thing... you must sleep with one eye open, I don’t know if the Khakis patrol this far out. Willem, set a watch rotation. Goodnight, Brothers.” With that, Kobus slid himself into his own bedroll, and closed his eyes. ***** Dreams were never very important to Jakobus, mere images that the tired mind flashed before his mind’s eye. Even the brightest dreams faded in comparison to that which he truly loved. And yet, as he walked contentedly through the bright cornfields towards his sprawling home, he couldn’t help but think that at least one of those dreams had come true. He remembered perfectly. Those bright-shining hazel eyes that drew him back at the end of every day, her locks like an auburn waterfall across her shoulders, her smile that invited him lovingly through the door with the setting sun. He looked at the sun now, frozen at midday, and he bathed in it. He closed his eyes and felt the warm Transvaal breezes gently whip at his loosely cropped hair, bringing him the scent of ripe crops, warm bread and burning thatch. He knew before his eyes locked on the scene: His house engulfed in flame, the laughter of the English horsemen that circled it, and the screaming of women. He started running, slowly at first, the first wisps of smoke swirling in his wake. He got faster, He WILLED himself to go faster. his feet barely touched the ground, the corn parting before him, the smoke cleared in a tunnel leading straight to his flaming homestead. Nothing would stop him. Marie. A horse barreled soundlessly into his path, the sneering man in the saddle waving his burning brand. Kobus roared and leapt at the murderous Englishman, tackling him from the saddle with an all-too-real impact. Instantly, the sensation of the world tore through him body, the shock of the fall, the knife plunged into his chest, the sight of the conflagration destroying his home, and the wailing scream that signalled the end of his life. Marie He saw her, just for an instant. her eyes held fear, her hair burnt as it was, was just another hand-hold for her captor. Kobus shuddered against the blade through his body, but the man holding it merely twisted it deeper Kobus swore in pain, but his eyes never left her, even as they threw her over a saddle and rode off with her. Kobus kept his eyes on her until the smoke finally swallowed the final glimpse of her tattered white dress. Marie. The next thing he saw was the night sky. Beside him lay the charred and fallen timbers of his house, but that barely affected him. She was gone, and so was his home. The stars shone warmly down upon him, offering him solace. Through the burning pain lancing across his torso, he begged them to take him, but they never did. Marie “You miss her” He stared at the Moon, its sympathetic eyes looking down upon his broken form. He choked out the only answer he could. “More than life” The moon stared down, a tear forming upon its own visage. “That night must have broken your soul more than any pain of the flesh.” He grinned past the blade through him. “They took her. They took EVERYTHING.” The Moon nodded. “I understand. Jakobus. You hate the many for what the few took from you, but the few deserve it. Rise.” Jakobus stood up and dusted off his coat, looking up at the moon. “Do I have your blessing for what I am about to do?” The Moon came down and stood next to him, her radiant form indistinguishable from the night that completely surrounded them, cloaking them in velvety safety and warmth. “No. You plan on killing and maiming to avenge your own loss, while inflicting loss upon others. You will only continue the cycle of hatred your kind have propagated. But rescuing the innocents of this strife. THAT I will help you with. Under my night, you will have success.” Jakobus heard her words reverberating through him, And he heard them in his soul. “I will do anything to save others from my loss. Under your night, the enemy will be broken, but not lost.” The Moon smiled at him, her eyes shining. “That is all I ask, Kobus. I know you miss her, but fighting under her name is mere anger. Remember who the real enemy is, and fight them when they show themselves. Pawns are not at fault for their master’s crimes.” She retreated back up amongst her stars, to watch over the world. Jakobus stood there, amidst the wreck of his home, staring after her until her eyes closed to him. Then he laughed. There was a war to fight, and here he was, talking to the Moon. ***** Kobus woke-up with a start in a cold sweat in unison with his men to the sound to the soft call of the watchman. A faint rustling could be heard in the grass surrounding their camp. The men eyed it nervously. The man beside him tapped Kobus’ shoulder. “Sir, there is something out there” he whispered. “How many?” Kobus replied, immediately formulating a plan. “five or six, Sir” “Wait until they are close, then take them down quietly. No shots fired; we can't afford to have the whole bloody camp coming to find us” Kobus whispered back, waving his men out into the plain’s grasses, his silent order clear. It didn’t take ten minutes for the most skilled hunters of the Afrikaans people to return. Six young English guardsmen, bound and gagged like animals, were dragged forward and dumped into the sputtering light of an oil lantern. One of them was crying. Willem sneered at the man’s weakness, and raised his rifle to strike it from him, but Jakobus stilled his hand. “Don’t. He’s just a pawn. He’s not at fault for his masters’ crimes.” He whispered. He leant down and raised the boy’s chin, looking into his eyes. In English, he asked quietly, “Do you fear us, or the pain we could bring you?” The boy failed to respond. Kobus pressed on. “Would knowing that no harm will befall you ease your fear?” The young man stopped snivelling.Kobus stood, but didn’t look at his men, rather looking past them, to the hills. The butte from the day before caught his eye. At its highest pinnacle, he saw, or thought he saw, the faintest glimmer of fluttering white. Jakobus turned, looking about his gathered nonplussed troops. “Tomorrow, we plan. Tomorrow night, we will destroy that camp. You can see the quality of the soldiers they have, just boys to guard women and children. but these men are not to be harmed. they aren’t at fault. So, men, tonight, we sleep. We take back what is ours soon enough.” The gathered Boers did not respond. How could they? Jakobus didn’t care. He simply lay back down and stared at the Moon til sleep took him.