Golden Lion by Wilbur Smith Read Free Book Online

she would have to wait so long.
    Hal pulled himself away and said, ‘You were asking after Aboli. Perhaps this will enlighten you.’
    He shouted a few words in a tongue that Judith knew was African, but could not comprehend. A few seconds later there came the reply, a loud keening cry that she instantly recognized as the start of a chant. It was answered by a mass of deep, masculine voices grunting, ‘Huh!’, followed immediately by feet stamping the deck as one. The first voice continued with the chant and, as it did, the sailors fell back to either side so that the deck in front of Judith emptied and there before her came a sight that thrilled her heart almost as much as the feel of Hal’s arms around her.
    Aboli stood on the bare planking. On his head he wore a tall headdress of white crane’s feathers that seemed to increase his already magnificent height so that he resembled a giant or a jungle god rather than a mortal man. In his hand he carried a broad-bladed stabbing spear and around his neck there was a kilt of leopard’s tails.
    Behind him came the Amadoda, men of his tribe who had been recruited to serve on the
Golden Bough
and who had swiftly proven to be as powerful and deadly at sea as they had been in the forests and open savannah that was their native land. They, too, wore crane-feather headdresses, though none was as tall or as splendid as Aboli’s, for he was their chief.
    Forward they came, their voices joining with his in rich, sonorous harmonies that proclaimed their valour, their comradeship and their willingness to die for their cause. All around, the rest of the crew looked on in slack-jawed amazement, for they had never seen the Amadoda like this, in all their glory. The men came forward until they were just a few paces from Judith and Hal and their song, their foot-stamps, their grunts and their perfectly co-ordinated movements combined in a way that was part dance, part military drill and part sheer celebration of the joy and pride of being a true warrior.
    Their song finished and all around burst into applause, none more than Judith, for she, too, was a daughter of Africa and even though the words they sang were not known to her, she understood the spirit in which they were sung completely. Then Aboli stepped towards her. With courtly dignity he removed his headdress and placed it on the deck beside him. Then he got down on one knee, reached out and took Judith’s right hand in his, lowered his head and kissed her hand.
    It was the tribute of a born aristocrat to his queen. Judith was all but overcome with the magnificence of his gesture and as he rose to his feet again, she kept hold of his hand and said, ‘Thank you, Aboli. Thank you with all my heart,’ for she knew that he had pledged himself to her and that she could count on him, absolutely, forever.
    Hal was next to take Aboli’s hand. ‘Thank you, old friend. That was magnificent.’
    Aboli smiled. ‘I am a prince of the Amadoda. What else could it be?’
    And so the festivities began. As morning gave way to afternoon, and afternoon to evening, food was eaten, and drink consumed, then the crew’s musicians got out their fiddles, pipes and drums and the singing and dancing began. Judith let Hal lead her out to the floor and they improvised a combination of reel and jig that seemed to match the band’s seafaring tunes well enough. Some of the native cooks and serving girls also found themselves pressed into service on the dancefloor, though Hal had made it very clear indeed that no liberties were to be taken and that any man found to have forced himself on a woman could expect a taste of the lash. Finally, as the sun went down, Hal stood on the steps leading up to the poop deck, looked out over the revellers and called for silence.
    ‘Right, you drunken scoundrels,’ he shouted, sounding less than entirely sober himself, ‘I have a few words to say to you all.’
    He was greeted by shouts of encouragement and a few