They were entering into the Kingdom of Lesotho territory, Queen Moshoeshoe’s lands. A couple of Boers had settled down here, disregarding her claims. They lived with the Sotho people, who came to trade from time to time. They were independent chiefs, which Moshoeshoe lacked control over her. She, who claimed to be the leader of the Sotho people in the region, had little power here. She could only grumble about the Boers encroaching onto what was her ‘territory’.
The territories were known as the Highveld, and the swarm of yellow grass mixed with the green flora was a sight to see. There are no mountains, only endless plains of grass, perfect for pastoralists.
There were resting in the small town of Swinburne, a small light of civilization amidst the wilderness. A couple of farmers greeted the large party. Why wouldn’t they? A large Boer party meant protection. And for the few Basuto merchants that came to trade, they were much more careful with what they should and ought to do. The farmers were hospitable once their ears clued to the fact they followed Pretorius and remarked about Pretorius’ deeds.
The Battle of Blood River was the battle that started the trek. If he had lost, Boers wouldn’t have so easily migrated into the Natal region. And perhaps, chose to stay under the British Colony, and will instead flood into the Xhosa territory. The Xhosa would surely be pleased.
Men got to work disassembling the wagons.
Around 150 men were with him on this trip, not counting the servants. 10 people could fit into the wagon, due to the artillery mounted at the front. 8 men were served by 2 servants. One of the servants would guide the oxen forward, whilst the other would help with chores. Whether it be cleaning their weapons, doing laundry or cooking food.
Some of the men of the 150 were on horseback. He had about 20 horses, 10 purchased, whilst the other 10 were brought about by farmers. They were of Cape Horse breed. The riders worked in pairs, resulting in 10 pairs of horsemen.
The animals were resting as the servants and the men got to work. Hitting out four pegs of the wheels, the top of the wagon was removed in seven pieces. The men, 2 servants and 8 Boers got to work carrying it slowly over the river. There they began assembling it once more, where the servants called the coaxed the ox over the river. It was a good time for maintenance as well, so they replaced the dead wood with the local hardwood harvested from the trees.
Jan was surprised at how little action they received. Perhaps it's due to their party size. What would the elves usually attack? Usually, a single wagon or two is manned by families. But any elf could look at their party and see it as a war party. Only those out of their minds would dare to launch an attack. But at this rate, he’ll have little justification to take cattle and hand it over to his men.
There were calls for help from other Boers. Surely, he could justify to himself and the men that stealing the cattle from the elves attacking these Boers would be just. The elves could just run off and gain the protection of another tribe for sustenance. It’s not as if they would all starve and die, right?
As they continued on their journey, the Flight Commandoes reported more and more sightings of Sotho elves following them in the Free States. Pietje dispatched riders to confirm the reports, and the riders reported the same.
It was a small group of scouts. But that party of elves grew, and Jan could only bite his lip as he heard the report from the rider that the elves following them grew larger.
“It’s likely we have caught the attention of the local elves. They must be wondering what we’re doing here. I will urge the men to be cautious in their dealings, and not cause them to escalate the situation,” Pietje explained as they set up camp. For now, the elves were sitting by a distance from the camp. They couldn’t see it, but the riders were grasping their muskets, watching the elves staring back at them.
“From now on, form a laager whenever we camp. There’s no telling what they want. A sneak attack at night will kill us all,” Jan advised, and Pietje nodded.
“Such a large group of elves. It’s likely a confederation of some kind. Perhaps to oppose Queen Moshoeshoe's rule down South,” Russell contemplated.
A Flight Commando rode back. Dismounting from his horse, he reported, “They have dispatched a small group of elves, 4 of them. They bring over some cattle, 2 sheep and 4 cows.”
“Tribute?” Pietje bemusedly guessed.
“Highly unlikely, more likely a trade delegation. Likely also to sniff out what we want. It’s not every day they see such a large group.”
The Flight Commando went back to their positions, seeing the movements of the elves all around their camp.
And every Boer in camp watched with dread at the elves approaching them. What is it they want? Trouble?
The delegation wore a mokorotlo, a conical hat with a knob that looked like the head of a lantern on top. Based on their physiques, he could make out 3 men and 1 woman. They wore the Basotho blankets, colourful blankets that looked comfy. Leather boots cushioned their every step, as balaclavas protected them from the winds.
These weren’t nobodies. The fact that they choose to come now after the elven party has been following for a couple of days showed that. Likely a small-time chief. Considering the number of elves following them, confirmed the elven confederation hypothesis Russell cooked up. There was no way a small tribe will be able to mobilize this many elves to track their movements.
“Yebo,” Jan greeted the delegation who stopped a couple of feet away from the camp. He scanned around the camp, the servants were hiding somewhere, likely in the wagons, whilst Boers stared menacingly at the newcomers.
Why does he feel like a villain here? With tough-looking guys all around him holding their guns, the elves seemed so defenceless. Are they though? Surely, they would have a knife or two underneath their blankets. He would not shake their hands to confirm that.
“Sawabona.”
“Yebo, Sawabona.”
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The female elf replied. It seemed they were familiar with Zulu customs. Likely, the migration of the tribes during Shaka’s conquest dispersed Zulu customs around the region.
And they looked at each other.
Now they were Sotho people, so they spoke Sotho. Jan couldn’t speak Sotho. Boers couldn’t speak Sotho. The servants couldn’t speak Sotho since they were Xhosa and speak Xhosa. Then again, they were Bantu elves. So, they spoke using clicks. They could likely communicate with one another. Although some time would be needed for them to understand each other. Then again it might cause a diplomatic incident if someone said something that might mean something in another language.
They could do something, or look at each other, wondering what to do next.
Speaking in Elfrikaans, he asked the Boers to bring him a servant that was a good speaker. And a servant was brought to him. Pointing at the delegation, and at the servant, Jan pointed at his mouth. The servant nodded, and the two groups tried to communicate.
The sound of clicks could be heard from both parties, and the servant came back to him and shook his head.
This was going to be difficult. Then again, leaving them alone would not cause conflict to break out, so it might be for the best. It’s rude to leave someone hanging, so he cracked his knuckles and began communicating by using gestures.
Now how do you communicate with someone to ask them what they are doing here?
He stretched his hands out and showed his palms to the elves.
The elves pointed to the cattle. And then pointed at their palm. It seemed as if they wished for payment for their cattle.
So, he asked the Boers around him, “Anyone want some cattle? They’re looking to trade.”
The Boers took out their measly trinkets and showed them to the traders, who refused every one of them. They instead pointed to the firearms slung on their backs. The Boers sighed and went back to their wagons, not wishing to engage with the traders.
Jan turned to face Pietje and Russell, who were looking at the scene before them.
“So, what now?” He asked them.
“I say give them a gun or two and trade with them. I think it is rather rude to not engage in trade. Show that we come in peace,” Pietje proposed, and Russell nodded with him.
“We could turn them away and they’ll understand. These guns are very powerful, surely, they’ll understand.”
“If we make them unobtainable by trade, then they’ll take it by force. Throw them a bone or two,” Russell added on.
“Pietje, you trade with elves a fair bit as a trekker. Tell me, how many guns do we need for all the cattle? I suppose some cattle are good for trade in the future when we trek further inland. We have some spare guns.”
“It depends. If they’re new to trading, they’ll pay a lot. Since they recognize the value of firearms, they’re no newbies.”
Pietje went to a servant and pointed at his musket and a wagon that stockpiled muskets. The Xhosa nodded and grabbed a spare musket. Handing it to Pietje, the Veldkornet handed it to Jan.
He took the lead and walked towards the delegation. Pointing at the musket, he pointed at the cattle. The female elf shook her head and pushed a cattle forward.
The cow mooed.
Jan shook his head and pointed once more to their herd.
Reluctantly, the elf pushed out a sheep, who baaed.
Peeking at Pietje, he looked signalled with his eyes. The man shrugged. Russell walked up to his ears and whispered, “Do not be lenient or be too harsh. A generous offer could earn their favour, but you might look weak. Whilst a harsh one would bring about disdain. Still, I recommend asking for another cattle whilst throwing in a couple of cartridges.”
Russell went to the elf and showed him a cartridge. Pointing at the wagon which stored them, the elf rushed off and entered the wagon. Rummaging through the chests and boxes, he retrieved a couple of cartridges and handed them to Russell. Passing it to Jan, Russell took a couple of steps back.
Jan showed the cartridges in one hand, whilst the musket in the other. He then pointed at another cow, which grazed the grass.
The elf pouted and shoved the cow forward.
Jan nodded and passed the goods to a servant, who handed the goods over. The female elf grasped onto the musket and the cartridges, feeling its texture. The Xhosa servant herded the cattle back.
Hugging the musket with satisfaction, the Sotho delegation made their way back.
“You think that’s the last we see of them? Since we have done this, it’s likely more of them would come over to trade their cattle for our firearms. So what then? Turn them all away?” Pietje grumbled.
“We’ll see about that.”
The elven scouts trailing them slowly dispersed as they trekked forwards. Satisfied that they weren’t a threat, they left them be. Traders were more daring and constantly came by when they set up camp. This time, they did so in a laager, surrounding themselves with their wagons. Some even rode their cattle abreast and offered to trade.
Jan ordered the men to shake their heads upon the offer to trade. Those spare firearms were his property. None of them was allowed to trade them away for cattle. And with that, the number of delegations looking to trade decreased in number.
Harrismith was a small town like the ones they come across on their trek. Few farmers, and a couple of Sotho tribes trading with them. What they didn’t know, was that this town was going to be extremely bustling in the future. It served as a refreshment stop between the diamonds and gold from Transvaal and the Free States. Most of these goods were shipped directly to Port Natal.
Port Mpande was a small port. So, for large mining operations, it could not do to have the goods shipped there. But a couple of small chests of gold and diamond? Port Mpande would serve well. A couple of tracks of rail ought to be laid here. Though, paving them through the various hills and valleys would be extremely difficult. So, they should not pave through here.
The farmers and the Sotho elves offered their sheep and their wool. The Sothos offered their colourful blankets made out of wool. Selling some of their knickknacks, his men obtained blankets to wrap themselves around with them. They looked rather dashing.
They were located by the base of one of those mountains known as Platberg, or “flat-topped mountain” in Elfrikaans.
Sandstone mountains, entirely flat on the top, loomed across them. Scant vegetation scattered loosely below it. In contrast to the rich grasslands of the highveld that he and his men stepped on, the mountains were yellow-brown.
“Two things we can do here,” Pietje explained as he came back from a conversation with the farmers.
“One, we can hike up the mountain. The view would be nice, and would give us a good overview of where we are heading next.”
“Two, there are some lovely bushman paintings in a nearby cave.”
“You like those paintings?”
“The San’s paintings have a certain style I like. It’s not every day you see something like that.”
“I see.”
Jan was a little surprised by his Veldkornet, someone he simply dismissed as a simple farmer was someone who appreciated the arts. A Parisian would probably turn their rich nose up while looking down at this simple farmer, but art is universal. Especially for San art. Else, why did they leave it on the walls? They could have left it in their consciousness to fester. There, they could have constantly replayed it in their memories to enjoy it. But they chose to depict the images from their minds, wishing to tell others about it.
“I’ll be heading to the cave first. If you’re interested, you could follow along. We’ll be hiking up the mountain later to see what’s next.”
“Sure.”
Jan grinned and followed the smiling Veldkornet, who excitedly headed to the cave.
Jan assumed that every elf he saw was Sotho, but he got the shock of his life when he heard the farmer communicating with an elf.
“Sawabona.”
“Yebo, Sawabona.”
His jaw dropped. Looking towards Pietje, he didn’t seem surprised.
“Is that elf Zulu? I thought all the elves here were Sotho.”
Pietje shrugged.
“Shaka’s conquests also reached here. Of course, there would be Zulus here. Now I don’t know whether Mpande would have much influence here in the Free States. Considering the distance, her influence is likely limited. She is likely to have much more influence in Natal.”
“So, they are independent Zulu chiefs, paying lip service to Queen Mpande back in Natal.”
Pietje nodded.
“I think there are a lot of Zulus here. Most of the Sothos would have fallen under Queen Moshoeshoe. Any holdouts here would be limited since they have to contest with the Zulu chiefs for the resources here.”
“Wait, then the traders we met previously were Sotho or Zulu?”
Pietje sighed.
“They were Sotho. If they were Zulu, our Xhosa servants could have easily communicated with them. Zulu and Xhosa languages or somewhat similar, so they would be able to communicate with each other. It would be like how a German speaker communicates with a Dutch. Pairing a Sotho with a Xhosa would be like speaking French to an Englishman. They are Latin words, but they won’t be able to communicate with one another.”