My Knight In Shining Armour

The old women of Matobo believed beauty carried a price. Some said it attracted blessings. Whilst others said it attracted trouble. On a cold August evening, beneath a sky painted with fading shades of orange and purple, Gogo MaMoyo sat outside her homestead and watched the cattle returning from the grazing fields. The village was settling into its usual rhythm. Children chased one another through dusty paths. Women stirred steaming pots over open fires. Men gathered beneath a giant acacia tree discussing politics, drought and cattle prices. Yet Gogo MaMoyo's eyes remained fixed on the young woman standing near the kraal. Nokuthula. Her granddaughter. Even from a distance, she looked different from everyone else. The setting sun wrapped itself around her like gold. Her skin glowed. Her eyes reflected the dying light. At twenty-two, she possessed a beauty that turned heads wherever she went. And that worried the old woman. Beauty had a way of inviting storms. "Nokuthula!" she called. The young woman turned. "Yes, Gogo?" "Come sit with me." Nokuthula walked over and settled beside her grandmother. For a moment neither spoke. The evening wind rustled through nearby trees. Then Gogo MaMoyo sighed. "I had a dream." Nokuthula smiled. "You and your dreams." "This one was different." The smile faded. The old woman stared into the distance. "I saw a horse." "A horse?" "White as moonlight." Nokuthula laughed softly. "And what does that mean?" "I do not know." The old woman hesitated. "But the rider frightened me." A strange silence settled between them. "The rider wore shining armour," she continued. "Everyone cheered when he arrived. They called him a hero." Nokuthula frowned. "And?" "The closer he came, the more frightened I became." "Why?" Gogo MaMoyo finally looked at her…