When the Lion Feeds by Wilbur Smith, Tim Pigott-Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

and then came back for Ronny, but he was too late. Ronny was dodging away between the trees holding his face and his nose was bleeding onto his shirt. Are you all right, Garry?
    Sean knelt beside him, trying to wipe the dirt off his face with a grubby handkerchief.
    Sean helped him to his feet, and Garrick stood swaying slightly with his eyes open but a remote and vacant smile on his lips.
    Waite Courtney looked at Sean across the breakfast table at Theunis kraal. The fork-load of egg and grilled gammon stopped on the way to his mouth. Turn your face towards the window, he commanded suspiciously. Sean obeyed. What the hell is that on your face?
    rWhat? Sean ran his hand over his cheek. When did you last bath? Don't be silly, my dear. Ada touched his leg under the table. It isn't dirt, it's whiskers. Whiskers, are they? Waite peered closely at Sean and started to grin, he opened his mouth to speak and Ada knew instantly that he was going to make a joke, one of those ponderous jokes of his, as subtle as an enraged all-formed dinosaur, that would wound Sean deep in his half-formed manhood. Quickly she cut in, I think you should buy him a razor, don't you, Waite? Waite lost the thread of his joke, he grunted and put the egg into his mouth.
    I don't want to cut them, said Sean and flushed scarlet.
    They'll grow quicker if you shave them a bit at first, Ada told him.
    Across the table from her Garrick fingered his jowls wistfully.
    Waite fetched them from school at the beginning of the December holidays. In the confusion of loading their cases onto the buggy and shouting farewells to Friulein and to their friends, some of whom they would not see for another six weeks, the twins did not notice that Waite was acting strangely.
    It was only later when the horses were heading for home at twice their normal speed that Sean asked, What's the hurry, Pa?
    You'll see, said Waite, and both Garrick and Sean looked at him with sudden interest. It had been an idle question of Sean's but Waite's answer had them immediately intrigued. Waite grinned at the bombardment of questions but he kept his answers vague. He was enjoying himself. By the time they reached Theunis Kraal the twins were in a frenzy of curiosity.
    Waite pulled the horses up in front of the house and one of the grooms ran to take the reins. Ada was waiting on the veranda and Sean jumped down and ran up the steps to her. He kissed her quickly. What's happening? he pleaded. Pa won't tell us- but we know it's something. Garrick hurried up the steps also. Go on, tell us. He caught hold of her arm and tugged it.
    I don't know what you're talking about, Ada laughed. You'd better ask your father again.
    Waite climbed up after them, put one arm around Ada's waist and squeezed her.
    I don't know where they got this idea from, said Waite, but why not tell them to go and have a look in their bedroom? They might as well have their Christmas presents a bit earlier this year. Sean beat Garrick to the lounge and was far in the lead by the time he reached the door of their bedroom.
    Wait for me, called Garrick desperately. Please wait for me. Sean stopped in the doorway.
    Jesus Christ, he whispered, they were the strongest words he knew.
    Garrick came up behind him and together they stared at the pair of leather cases that lay on the table in the middle of the room, long flat cases, heavy polished leather with the corners bound in brass.
    Rifles! said Sean. He walked slowly to the table as though he were stalking the cases, expecting them at any moment to vanish.
    Look! Sean reached out to touch with one finger the gold lettering stamped into the lid of the nearest case. Our names on them even. He sprung the locks and lifted the lid. In a nest of green baize, perfumed with gun oil, glistened a poem in steel and wood.
    Jesus Christ, said Sean again. Then he looked over his shoulder at garrick. Aren't you going to open yours?
    Garrick limped up to the table trying to hide his disappointment : he had