The Map of Bones, page 16
Gently, she gently lifted out the tiny casket and opened the lid, releasing a scent of sandalwood. The pale silk looked faded, as if it had lost its lustre in the blindness of the vault, but the gems within shone as bright. A silver necklace with a garnet, her birthstone, as red as a prick of fresh blood on a finger, and matching ring. Knowing that they had belonged to Matilde made them precious, but Suzanne had never yet found the courage to wear them. They spoke to her of loss, of her mother’s silence.
She slipped the ring onto her finger and held it up. Then a new idea came to her. Suzanne’s great-grandfather had presented Louise with a dagger, her birthstone set in the hilt – an emerald – for her birth month of May. How much more practical, more useful, than something of purely decorative value. Suzanne tilted her hand, watching how the stone glistered even in the dull light of the vault, then slipped it off and into her palm. If she could find a silversmith in the Colony, she could ask him to remove the garnet from the head of the ring and reset it in the handle of a knife. Just like Louise’s.
Pleased with her idea, Suzanne added the cost of a dagger to her list of purchases to be made, then locked the box and left it on the table.
‘I am travelling upcountry,’ she said to the clerk, as she handed back the key. ‘In my absence, my grandmother – mevrouw Florence Joubert – is to have access to the box. Here is the authorisation.’
The clerk read the letter Adriaan had provided, then stamped it without comment, and passed it back.
‘Thank you for your assistance,’ she said.
Then, unable to keep the smile from her face, she ran back down the corridor and into the blazing sunlight, with her purse, the eyeglass and Matilde’s ring in her bag.
Finally, the expedition could begin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Thursday, 16th December
Three weeks later, on the third Thursday of December, Suzanne Joubert was ready to leave for Stellenbosch. It was a month since she had last left the Colony, and so much had changed. This time, she was in charge of her own destiny.
Wearing her lightest travelling clothes and a broad-brimmed hat, she had a leather sheath attached to her belt with a short-bladed knife, the garnet now set in its hilt by a Huguenot couteleur in the Colony. She hoped she would not have cause to use it for anything other than hunting. In her satchel, the eyeglass, an old map of the interior and provisions for the day’s journey jostled for space with Louise’s diary and the Tarot card in its white linen wrapper. Suzanne had intended to leave them with her grandmother for safe-keeping but, at the last moment, changed her mind. She wanted something tangible belonging to Louise to carry with her and, though she did not yet know what she might discover, the Justice card felt like a powerful talisman.
Florence, Judith and Madame Lombard had come to see her on her way, with the two youngest of the Rotterdam orphans. Now dressed in Cape summer attire, and their complexions touched by the sun, they looked as if they had been born and bred in the Colony.
As before, she was waiting at the gate for Adriaan to bring the horses round. He had decided to ride with her to Stellenbosch, with two soldiers, on the pretext of a tour of inspection. He would stay overnight to see Suzanne settled at the drostdij, and to help secure the services of a local Khoi guide, then return to the Colony the following day. After that Suzanne would be on her own.
‘I shall lack your company,’ she said to Judith, holding out her hands.
She was delighted to see the bloom had come back to her friend’s cheeks and, though there were not yet any outward signs of her pregnant state, she seemed softer.
‘And I yours,’ Judith answered. ‘These weeks seeing one another so regularly have been quite like our first weeks here. Do you remember? Everything seemed so strange. Impossible.’
Suzanne grinned. ‘And now look at us. You, a married lady, and me a pioneer. I hope you will forgive me for taking your husband from you again.’
‘I would not have it any other way. God speed, dear Suzanne.’
They embraced, then Suzanne turned to Madame Lombard. ‘You will take good care of Gran’mère,’ she said. ‘Catrina is going to lodge in our house so my grandmother will have an extra pair of hands while I am away.’
Madame Lombard prodded a finger at her. ‘You take care to come back to us, do you hear me?’
‘I will.’
The old woman harrumphed. ‘Mind you do, girl, mind you do.’ She leant forward and whispered in her ear. ‘You have a gun, don’t be afraid to use it. Man or beast, shoot first, ask questions after.’
Suzanne laughed. ‘Good counsel indeed. For this, and many other kindnesses, my thanks.’
Finally, Suzanne turned to her grandmother. ‘I don’t know how to take my leave of you. No words seem enough, yet there seems nothing I can say.’
Florence smiled. ‘You are the greatest gift of my life, Suzanne. I am proud of you, proud of what you are doing. But remember this. Louise’s story is not your story. You suffered a great injustice, something no woman should have to endure, and yet have kept your character. Do not sacrifice yourself for the idea of a dream.’
Suzanne frowned. ‘Do you think it is wrong of me to go?’
Florence put her veined hand against Suzanne’s cheek. ‘Not in the slightest. But whatever you find out, if you discover anything at all, it only matters for what it means to you now. The past is gone. Revenge, loss and grief for a person you never even knew, these are things that can make us forget that we are here today. You are not Louise, ma petite. Find out her story, bring her back to life in order to lay her to rest, by all means. But then come back here and let yourself live again.’
Not knowing how to reply, Suzanne kissed her grandmother’s cheek. ‘I love you, Gran’mère. For everything you have given me, for your faith in me. For showing me the meaning of courage.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
STELLENBOSCH
Friday, 17th December
Although Pieter Odendaal was courteous, the coolness of his welcome left Suzanne in no doubt that it was only Adriaan’s patronage that had secured her lodgings at the drostdij for a second time. His sister Anke, a nervous and worn-out woman, was unable to look Suzanne in the eye, said a few ineffectual words of greeting, then scuttled immediately into her sewing room. It was left to the same maid, Tia, to show her to the chamber she had occupied previously.
Later, the four of them ate a stilted meal, with Adriaan valiantly attempting to keep the conversation flowing. Beyond his obvious antipathy, Odendaal seemed preoccupied. His sister kept darting anxious glances at him, then dropped her soup spoon when he shouted that her fidgeting was getting on his nerves. He all but ignored Suzanne and gave the most perfunctory of answers to any direct questions Adriaan put to him. He ate little and drank a great deal of wine.
‘Thank you, Odendaal, mevrouw Odendaal,’ Adriaan said, as their host rose from the table when the meal was over. ‘It was kind of you to lay on such a feast.’
‘So long as she does not expect it every night,’ the landdrost replied ungraciously, flapping a drunken hand in Suzanne’s direction.
‘I would not presume further on your hospitality, landdrost,’ she said.
Adriaan dropped his napkin onto the table. ‘Shall we take the air before we retire, sister? There are one or two matters about your expedition to discuss before I return to the Colony.’
Grateful for the chance to be out of the poisonous atmosphere, Suzanne politely excused herself to Anke Odendaal, then fetched her bonnet and cape.
Once they were beyond the bridge, and out of sight, she took his arm.
‘Well! He could not have made his displeasure any more obvious.’
‘I am sorry about that. I regret to say he is one of those men who becomes morose when he is in his cups.’
‘More than morose. His poor sister. To be dependent on such a man – she could barely hold her napkin without trembling.’
‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘Not a bit. But it makes me all the keener to be away from Stellenbosch as quickly as possible.’
The evening air, after the heat of the day, was soft. The wind had dropped to a gentle breeze and there was no one about as they strolled down the main street. Beside them, the Eerste River sang its song, racing over the rocks and stones, and around the island on which the drostdij was situated.
‘I did wonder if the landdrost had something on his mind that caused him to be so . . . distracted,’ she said.
‘I gather that two slaves have gone missing.’
‘They have run away, do you mean?’
‘It appears so.’ He exhaled. ‘It is rare, in truth, for where would they go? And the penalties are harsh. Odendaal appears to see it as a slur on his character, a personal affront. And he has decided—’
‘– that someone within his own household must have helped them.’
‘That is observant of you.’
Suzanne glanced at her friend. ‘Is it possible he is right?’
Adriaan kept his eyes straight ahead. He knew that she abhorred the practice of slavery and, though his Christian heart rebelled against it, his practical head spoke otherwise.
‘Without knowing the particulars, I cannot say. It is possible, I suppose, but it seems unlikely. All enslaved men working in the town are housed in the slavenhuis. They have no freedom of movement, rather they are released each morning to their tasks and taken back in the evening when the day’s work is done. It is hard to see how two men would abscond without being seen.’
‘Or someone is turning a blind eye.’
‘That’s the rub.’
They reached the outer limits of the town, then turned to retrace their steps.
‘But who would help them?’ Suzanne asked. ‘They would be putting themselves at risk.’
‘Not to mention putting their standing with the VOC at risk. That is why it seems less than likely to me.’
‘And you have told the landdrost this?’
‘I have tried to impress upon him that his best course of action is to wait. More likely than not, the runaways will be found by a settler. Or returned by Khoi hunters.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘There is a reward.’
‘Ah.’
Suzanne was silent, hating a world where a human being could be considered another man’s property, his life measured in those terms and those alone.
‘What will Odendaal do?’
An expression of distaste crossed Adriaan’s face. ‘He has already sent soldiers out to search. He will not let it rest. His sister knows it, the household knows it. Everyone is walking on eggshells. Well, as you saw.’ She heard him draw in his breath. ‘I confess, sister, I am not altogether happy leaving you here while things are so unsettled.’
‘I will be here only for as long as I have to. I will stay out of his way. I have no desire for his company, nor that of his poor sister. Do not worry. He can hardly bear even to look at me.’
‘Even so—’
Suzanne interrupted his protestations, not wanting him to change his mind and withdraw support for her expedition.
‘Before we left the Colony, you said you would secure the services of a guide. Have you been able to do so?’
Though clearly still anxious, Adriaan nodded. ‘Yes. A decent fellow, a Khoi interpreter who knows the land well. He will report to you the day after tomorrow.’
‘Thank you. I assume he can speak Dutch?’
Finally, Adriaan laughed. ‘Dutch, French, English, a little German and Portuguese as well as Khoi, and no doubt other local languages. He is one of the most gifted linguists I have come across.’
‘What is his name?’
‘He goes by the name of Harrie Neman.’
‘And his Khoi name?’
Adriaan gave a wry smile. ‘Khemy, I believe.’
They had arrived back at the drostdij. Suzanne hesitated a moment, reluctant to go back into the unhappy house. ‘And Harrie – Khemy – will be here on Sunday?’
‘That is right. So, if you can keep out of trouble for another day and a night, all will be well.’
Not for the two poor souls who chose to flee into the interior rather than face another day in the slave house, Suzanne thought, but did not say so. Whether the men were caught by Odendaal’s men, attacked by wild animals, or brought back by those who would see a little extra money in their pockets, she feared their future was bleak.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sunday, 19th December
Adriaan left Stellenbosch at dawn.
Although Suzanne had made light of the situation, she felt uncomfortable in the drostdij without him and was sorry to see him go. She intended to stay out of Odendaal’s way so far as that was possible. His dislike of her seemed to spread through the house like a bad smell. She could not imagine what she had done to warrant such loathing, but she had no interest in finding out. In a spirit of building bridges, she did, however, offer her company to his sister, but was turned down flat.
‘Oh no,’ Anke said hastily, ‘my brother would not like it. Not at all.’ She darted a browbeaten look at Suzanne. ‘I do not mean to offend.’
‘No offence taken,’ Suzanne lied. ‘May I ask, though, if there is something I have done to upset your brother? I would make amends, if I can.’
Anke Odendaal looked, if anything, more terrified than before. ‘I cannot say, I dare not,’ she stammered. Then, to Suzanne’s astonishment, she rushed from the room leaving her sewing on her chair.
Suzanne spent the remainder of the long hot afternoon in her chamber, laying out her equipment for the expedition, even though she had checked it a hundred times already. From time to time, shouted instructions filtered up to her room, and the sound of slamming doors. Twice, she heard the grille to the gaol being unlocked but, when she looked, there was no one in the courtyard.
At dusk, when the mosquitoes were at their worst, Tia came in to bring her a tray of supper. If she had not been so hot and frustrated at being cooped up inside all day, Suzanne might have laughed when she saw how meagre a repast was provided now Adriaan was not here: a little bread and salted meat, a handful of walnuts and a small glass of brandy.
The sooner she was away from Stellenbosch, the better.
Suzanne could hear the sounds of shouting in the fields and the barking of dogs. ‘Have the men been found?’ she asked, as Tia turned down the bed and closed the shutters.
Tia lowered her eyes. ‘No, miss,’ she said, then left before Suzanne could ask her anything more.
Suzanne settled herself at the table with her frugal supper before her. She thought of their rations on the ship, and Louise arriving in the Cape and having to barter for food, then ate every last scrap as if it was a banquet fit for a queen. Tomorrow, the guide would come and she would be rid of Odendaal – or, rather, he would be rid of her.
Suzanne was woken by the sound of hammering competing with the toll of the bell for the Sunday service. Slipping out of bed, she went to the window and looked down at the courtyard where, two weeks earlier, Lar Eltorp had been put to death. Two Malagasy men were securing a wooden post in the middle of the courtyard, one holding it straight while the other pounded it into the scorched earth with a mallet. When Tia came in with her breakfast tray, she asked what they were doing.
‘The master says someone must know.’
‘Someone?’
‘The servants here, the slaves.’
Suzanne waited. ‘And?’ she prompted, when Tia did not elaborate.
‘He means to beat it out of us,’ she said, for the first time meeting Suzanne’s eye.
‘But that’s appalling. And why would anyone know?’
‘It is what he believes,’ Tia repeated tightly, making it clear what little she thought of her master. ‘Will there be anything else, miss?’
Distracted, Suzanne shook her head. ‘No. No, thank you, Tia.’
In the distance, she heard the church bell slow to a single note to summon the last of the faithful to prayer. Looking out of the other window overlooking the street, she saw Odendaal rush down the front steps, with Anke scuttling behind him, and stride across the bridge towards the chapel. She was relieved they had not pressed her to join them. Suzanne turned away with distaste, wishing Madame Lombard was here. She would have sharp words for a man who so abused his household whilst pretending to piety.
Then, Suzanne realised she could venture from her chamber while Odendaal and his sister were on their knees before the pastor.
She dressed quickly and went downstairs. Straight away she could feel it. The atmosphere in the house was different. Like a sigh or a letting out of air, the air was no longer sharp with tension. She walked through the house, nodding to the maid dusting in the parlour and to the cook in the kitchen, then went outside. She found Tia at the pump.
‘Is there something you need, miss?’
Suzanne shook her head. ‘Just taking the air while I can,’ she said, and was gratified to see a faint smile light Tia’s lips.
‘The air is fresher this morning, miss,’ she said, then returned to her task.
Next, Suzanne went to the stable to talk to the groom, Jan, who was caring for her bay mare. Horses were valuable and still relatively rare in the Colony, so Adriaan had explained how Harrie – Khemy, as Suzanne was determined to think of him – would walk beside her rather than ride. He had also added that, although some Khoi had firearms, most still preferred to use a spear with a reinforced tip.
