middle of the bush with no one to see but these savages.”
“Sendeyo and his family are not savages, Emma. They’re people, with pride and a culture as good as yours. Better,probably. They marry and raise families and take care of each other. We’ll get old Sendeyo over there to do the honors.”
Adam tipped his head at the two men who had stood watching in silence. Sendeyo smiled back, as if he already knew that something interesting was afoot.
Adam related the scheme to the elder, who listened with bowed head. Then Sendeyo began to respond, his deep voice lilting over phrases almost as though he were singing. At last he stopped and leaned on his spear.
Adam turned to Emma. “He won’t do it.”
“But why not?”
“He says it’s not their way. We have to observe the proper waiting time, and it’s not even calving season. You don’t have a hut, there’s no cow to slaughter for the feast and we aren’t even betrothed.”
“Preposterous. Surely they don’t get betrothed.”
“It’s called the esirata —the picking of one girl from many.”
Emma’s eyes flicked to the old man. He was staring at the stars. “Tell him I shall pay him well. I’ll give him fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds? Why not fifty thousand? Sendeyo wouldn’t know what to do with one shilling. The Maasai way of life is based on the cow.”
“Then I shall send him a cow. Ten cows.”
Adam laughed. “He’s not going to do it, but I’ll try again.”
He spoke to Sendeyo, stressing the urgency of the missing sister and the German who had stolen her away. Then he mentioned the cows. Sendeyo made a brief answer and prodded Adam with his cattle stick until he was facing Emma again.
“All right,” he said. “He’ll do it.”
She let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Sendeyo. I shall see that you have as many cows as you like.”
“He doesn’t want cows, Emma. He wants me to pay the bride price.”
“Bride price? What is that?” she asked, her desperation growing.
“Payment—for you. And since there are no parents to negotiate, he says I’m to give the bride price to you. Wait here.”
He walked to his horse, slipped a knife from his boot and sliced into a leather strap on one of the saddlebags. It was one of four that held the bag closed with brass rings.
“Here’s the bride price,” he told Emma.
Unwilling to meet those green eyes, he took her hand and slid the ring onto the finger of her left hand. Sendeyo held aloft a knobbed stick. As he lowered it, he spoke in a raspy voice.
“I’m to take care of you,” Adam translated. “I’m to give you many children and a hut and lots of cattle. You’re to take care of the children and the cattle and the hut. I can’t divorce you unless you’re barren, or you practice witchcraft, become a thief, desert me, behave badly, or refuse me conjugal rights.”
He glanced up but she was not smiling. “You can’t divorce me unless I commit the same evils you’re supposed to avoid,” Adam went on. “You can leave me if I get drunk or treat you badly.”
Sendeyo set the stick on the ground. His next words were firm, uncompromising. Adam turned to Emma.
“As God has willed it,” he told her. “We’re married.”
“I see.” Emma looked down at her finger. The brass ring glinted in the firelight.
“I’ll get Sendeyo to sign something in the morning.”
“Morning, but…?”
“I’m not going back to the train tonight, Emma. The horses are too tired, and so are we.”
She sighed in resignation as Adam thanked the two men and watched them melt away into the shadows.
“Sendeyo says we can have the hut by the gate,” he told her. “It’s empty.”
Her eyes went wide. “But we can’t stay in the same place. It isn’t right.”
“I’ll sleep outside in the grass beside the horses.” He stepped closer and took her hands, suddenly unwilling to let her go. “You know what’s not right? This wedding.”
“I know, but it’s
“Sendeyo and his family are not savages, Emma. They’re people, with pride and a culture as good as yours. Better,probably. They marry and raise families and take care of each other. We’ll get old Sendeyo over there to do the honors.”
Adam tipped his head at the two men who had stood watching in silence. Sendeyo smiled back, as if he already knew that something interesting was afoot.
Adam related the scheme to the elder, who listened with bowed head. Then Sendeyo began to respond, his deep voice lilting over phrases almost as though he were singing. At last he stopped and leaned on his spear.
Adam turned to Emma. “He won’t do it.”
“But why not?”
“He says it’s not their way. We have to observe the proper waiting time, and it’s not even calving season. You don’t have a hut, there’s no cow to slaughter for the feast and we aren’t even betrothed.”
“Preposterous. Surely they don’t get betrothed.”
“It’s called the esirata —the picking of one girl from many.”
Emma’s eyes flicked to the old man. He was staring at the stars. “Tell him I shall pay him well. I’ll give him fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds? Why not fifty thousand? Sendeyo wouldn’t know what to do with one shilling. The Maasai way of life is based on the cow.”
“Then I shall send him a cow. Ten cows.”
Adam laughed. “He’s not going to do it, but I’ll try again.”
He spoke to Sendeyo, stressing the urgency of the missing sister and the German who had stolen her away. Then he mentioned the cows. Sendeyo made a brief answer and prodded Adam with his cattle stick until he was facing Emma again.
“All right,” he said. “He’ll do it.”
She let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Sendeyo. I shall see that you have as many cows as you like.”
“He doesn’t want cows, Emma. He wants me to pay the bride price.”
“Bride price? What is that?” she asked, her desperation growing.
“Payment—for you. And since there are no parents to negotiate, he says I’m to give the bride price to you. Wait here.”
He walked to his horse, slipped a knife from his boot and sliced into a leather strap on one of the saddlebags. It was one of four that held the bag closed with brass rings.
“Here’s the bride price,” he told Emma.
Unwilling to meet those green eyes, he took her hand and slid the ring onto the finger of her left hand. Sendeyo held aloft a knobbed stick. As he lowered it, he spoke in a raspy voice.
“I’m to take care of you,” Adam translated. “I’m to give you many children and a hut and lots of cattle. You’re to take care of the children and the cattle and the hut. I can’t divorce you unless you’re barren, or you practice witchcraft, become a thief, desert me, behave badly, or refuse me conjugal rights.”
He glanced up but she was not smiling. “You can’t divorce me unless I commit the same evils you’re supposed to avoid,” Adam went on. “You can leave me if I get drunk or treat you badly.”
Sendeyo set the stick on the ground. His next words were firm, uncompromising. Adam turned to Emma.
“As God has willed it,” he told her. “We’re married.”
“I see.” Emma looked down at her finger. The brass ring glinted in the firelight.
“I’ll get Sendeyo to sign something in the morning.”
“Morning, but…?”
“I’m not going back to the train tonight, Emma. The horses are too tired, and so are we.”
She sighed in resignation as Adam thanked the two men and watched them melt away into the shadows.
“Sendeyo says we can have the hut by the gate,” he told her. “It’s empty.”
Her eyes went wide. “But we can’t stay in the same place. It isn’t right.”
“I’ll sleep outside in the grass beside the horses.” He stepped closer and took her hands, suddenly unwilling to let her go. “You know what’s not right? This wedding.”
“I know, but it’s
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