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.