Power Of The Sword Part 44

The constable hit the tailor with a full swing of the baton, crushing his red pillbox fez, and when the little man dropped on the paving stones, stooped over him to aim another blow at his head. Tara launched herself at the policeman. It was a reflex action, like a lioness protecting one of her cubs. The policeman was bent forward, his back to her, and Tara took him off balance. He went down sprawling, but Tara had a death grip on his baton and the wrist-strap parted.

Suddenly she found herself armed and triumphant with the blue-jacketed enemy of the proletariat, minions of the bourgeoisie, before her.

She had come in behind the rank of advancing police as they pa.s.sed the shop, and their backs were turned to her.

The thuds of the swinging batons and the terrified squeals of the victims infuriated her. There were the poor and the needy and the oppressed and here were the oppressors, and here also with raised baton was Tara Malcomess.

Normally it would have taken Shasa little over half an hour to drive the Jaguar from the Anreith gates of Weltevreden to the charge office in Victoria Street. This afternoon it took him almost an hour and a good deal of fast talking.

The police had cordoned off the area from Observatory Main Road right to the old fort on the extreme south end of the Grand Parade. An ominous shroud of black smoke hung over District Six and drifted out over Table Bay and the police at the roadblocks were tense and on edge.

You can't go in there, sir, a sergeant flagged down the Jaguar. 'n.o.body allowed in there. Those black b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are throwing bricks and burning everything in sight. Sergeant, I have just had a message. My fiance is in there and she needs me. She's in terrible trouble, you have to let me go to her. Orders, sir, I'm sorry. There were half a dozen constables at the barricade, four of them coloured munic.i.p.al police.

Sergeant, what would you do if it were your wife or mother who needed you? The sergeant glanced around him sheepishly. I tell you what I'll do, sir. My men are going to open the roadblock for one minute and we are going to turn our backs. I never saw you and I don't know nothing about you. The streets were deserted but littered with debris, loose stones and bricks and broken gla.s.s that crunched under the tyres of the Jaguar. Shasa drove fast, appalled at the destruction he saw around him, slitting his eyes against the drifts of smoke that obscured his vision every few hundred yards.

Once or twice he saw figures lurking in the alleys, or watching from the upper windows of the undamaged buildings, but n.o.body attempted to stop him or attack him.

Nevertheless, it was with intense relief that he reached the police station in Victoria Road, and the protection of the hastily marshalled police riot squads.

Tara Malcomess. The sergeant at the front desk of the charge office recognized the name immediately. Yes, you could say that we know about her! After all, it took four of my men to carry her in here.

What are the charges, Sergeant? Let me see, He consulted the charge sheet. So far we have only got attending an unlawful a.s.sembly, wilful destruction of property, inciting to violence, using abusive and threatening language, obstructing the police in the execution of their duty, a.s.saulting a policeman and,or policemen, common a.s.sault, a.s.sault with an offensive weapon and,or a.s.sault with intent. I will put up her bail. That, sir, will cost a pretty penny, I should say. Her father is Colonel Malcomess, the cabinet minister. Well, why didn't you say so before? Please wait here, sir. Tara had a blackened eye and her blouse was torn; her auburn hair stood up in tangled disarray as she peered out at Shasa between the bars of her cell.

What about Huey? she demanded.

Huey can cook in Hades for I care. Then I'm going to cook with him, Tara declared truculently. I'm not leaving here without him. Shasa recognized the obstinate set of her madonna-like features, and sighed. So it cost him one hundred pounds fifty for Tara and fifty for Huey.

I'll be d.a.m.ned if I will give him a lift though, Shasa declared.

Fifty quid is enough for any little bolshevik. He can walk back to his kennel from here. Tara climbed into the front seat of the Jaguar and folded her arms defiantly. Neither of them spoke as Shasa gunned the motor and pulled away with unnecessary violence, burning blue smoke off the bac tyres.

Instead of heading back towards the affluent white southern suburbs, he sent the Jaguar roaring up the lower slopes of Devil's Peak and parked at one of the viewpoints overlooking the smoking and damaged buildings of District Six.

What are you doing? she demanded, as he switched off the engine.

Don't you want to have a look at your handiwork? he asked coldly. Surely you are proud of what you have achieved.

She shifted uneasily in her seat. That wasn't us, she muttered. 'That was the skollie boys and the gangsters. My dear Tara, that is how revolution is supposed to work.

The criminal elements are encouraged to destroy the existing system, to break down the rule of law and order, and then the leaders step in and restore order again by shooting the revolutionaries. Haven't you studied the teachings of your idol Lenin? It was the fault of the police Yes, it's always the fault of the police, that's also part of Lenin's plan. It isn't like that Shut up, he snapped at her. Just for once shut up and listen to me. Up to now I've put up with your Joan of Arc act. It was silly and naive but I tolerated it because I loved you. But when you start burning down people's homes and throwing bricks and bombs, then I don't think it's so funny any more. Don't you dare condescend to me, she flared.

Look, Tara, look down there at the smoke and flames.

Those are the people you pretend to care for, those are the people who you say you want to help. Those are their homes and livelihoods that you have put the torch to. I didn't think, I No, you certainly didn't think. But I am going to tell you something now and you'd better remember it. if you try to destroy this land I love and make its people suffer, then you become my enemy and I will fight you to the death., She was silent for a long time, her head turned away from him and then at last she said softly, Will you take me home, Please? He took the long way home over Kloof Nek and along the Atlantic coast, circling around the far side of Table Mountain to avoid the riot-torn areas and they never spoke again until he parked at last in front of the Malcomess home in Newlands.

Perhaps you are right, Tara said. Perhaps we really are enemies. She climbed out of the Jaguar and stood looking down at him as he sat behind the wheel in the open c.o.c.kpit.

Goodbye Shasa, she said softly, sadly, and went into the house.

Goodbye, Tara, he whispered. Goodbye, my beloved enemy!

All the Courtneys were gathered in the front room of Weltevreden.

Sir Garrick and Anna sat on the long sofa which was covered with striped Regency patterned damask. They had come down from Natal for Sir Garry's birthday, and the week before they had all climbed Table Mountain for the traditional birthday picnic. it had been a merry occasion and the Ou Baas, General Ian Christian s.m.u.ts, had been with them, as he nearly always was.

Sir Garry and Lady Anna had planned to return home a few days reviously, but then the ghastly news of the German invation of Poland had broken and they had stayed on at Weltevrede. It was only right that the family should be together in these desperate days.

The two of them held hands like young lovers as they sat close together. Since his last birthday, Sir Garry had grown a small silver goatee beard, perhaps in unconscious imitation of his old friend General s.m.u.ts. it increased his scholarly mien and added a little touch of distinction to his pale aesthetic features. He leaned slightly forward on the sofa, inclined towards his wife but with his attentionontheradio cabinet over which Shasa Courtney was fussing, twiddling the tuning k.n.o.bs and frowning at the crackle and whine of static.

The BBC is on the forty-one-metre band, Centaine told him sharply and glanced at her diamond-studded wrist.w.a.tch. Do be quick, cheri, or we will miss the transmission!

,Ah! Shasa smiled as the static cleared and the chimes of Big Ben rang out clearly. As they died away the announcer spoke.

Twelve hundred hours Greenwich Mean Time and in place of the news we are broadcasting a statement by Mr Neville Chamberlain the prime minister,, Turn it up, cheri, Centaine ordered anxiously, and the fateful words, measured and grave, boomed into the elegant room.

They listened to it all in complete silence. Sir Garry's beard quivered, and he took the steel-rimmed spectacles off his nose and absentmindedly chewed on one of the side frames. Beside him Anna wriggled forward onto the edge of the sofa, her thick thighs spread under their own weight; her face slowly turned a deeper shade of brick and her grip on her husband's hand tightened as she stared at the radio in its mahogany cabinet.

Centaine sat in the tall wingbacked chair beside the huge stone fireplace. She looked like a young girl in a white summer dress with a wide yellow ribbon around her slim waist. She was thirty-nine years old, but there was not yet a single thread of silver in the dense dark curls of her hair and her skin was clear, the faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes smoothed almost entirely by expensive oils and creams. She leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair, and while with one finger she touched her cheek, she never took her eyes off her son.

Shasa paced the long room, moving from the radio cabinet in its niche between the long flowered curtains, across the highly polished parquet floor with its scattering of oriental carpets until he reached the grand concert piano that stood against the main wall of bookcases at the far end of the room, then turning and coming back with quick restless paces, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed in concentration.

She thought how he looked so much like his father.

Though Michael had been older and not quite so handsome, yet they had the same quality of grace. She remembered how she had believed Michael to be immortal, a young G.o.d, and she felt the terror enter her soul again, that same helpless crippling terror, as she heard the words of war echo through this beautiful home that she had built as a fortress against the world.

We are never safe, there is no refuge, she thought. It is coming again, and I cannot save those I love. Shasa and Blaine, they will both go and I cannot keep them from it.

Last time it was Michael and Papa, this time it's Shasa and Blaine - and, oh G.o.d, I hate it. I hate war and I hate the evil men who make it. Please G.o.d spare us this time. You took Michael and Papa, please spare Shasa and Blaine. They are all I have, please don't take them from me. The deep slow voice spoke into the room, and Shasa froze in the centre of the floor, turning his head to stare over his shoulder at the radio as the voice said: And so, it is with the deepest regret that I have to inform you that a state of war now exists between Great Britain and Germany. The transmission ended and was replaced by the slow sad strains of chamber music.

Turn it off, cheri, Centaine said softly, and there was complete silence in the room.

n.o.body moved for many seconds. Then abruptly Centaine rose to her feet. She was smiling gaily as she linked her arm through Shasa's.

Lunch is ready everybody, she cried lightly. in such lovely weather we will eat on the terrace. Shasa will open a bottle of champagne, and I have managed to get the first oysters of the season. She kept up a bright and cheery monologue until they were all seated at the table and the wine gla.s.ses were filled and then suddenly her act collapsed, and she turned to Sir Garry with a tortured expression.

We won't have to go in, will we Papa? General Hertzog promised he would keep us out. He says it's an English war.

We won't have to send our men again, not this time, will we Papa? Sir Garry reached across and took her hand. You and I know what the price was last time,, his voice choked off and he could not mention Michael's name. After a moment he gathered himself. I wish I could give you comfort, my dear. I wish I could say what you want to hear. It's not fair, said Centaine miserably. It just isn't fair. 'No, I agree it isn't fair. However, there is a monstrous tyranny abroad, a great evil which will swallow us and our world if we do not resist it., Centaine sprang up from the table and ran into the house.

Shasa rose quickly to follow her, but Sir Garry restrained him with a hand on his arm, and ten minutes later Centaine came out again. She had washed her face and refreshed her make-up and she was smiling, but there was a feverish glitter in her eyes as she took her place at the head of the table.

We are all going to be gay, she laughed. That's an order.

No brooding, no morbid thoughts or words, we are all going to be happy, she broke off and the laughter wobbled. She had been about to say, for it may be the last time we will all be happy together ever again. On 4 September 1939, the day after Great Britain and France had declared war on n.a.z.i Germany, General Barry Hertzog rose to address the Parliament of the Union of South Africa.

It is my sad and painful duty to inform the house that the cabinet of the Government is divided on the question of this country's position in the state of war that exists at present between Britain and France on the one hand and Germany on the other hand. He paused and replaced his spectacles to scrutinize the faces of the men who sat beside him on the government front benches, and then went on gravely.

It is my firm belief that the ultimatum given to Germany by the British Government concerning the occupation of Poland by the German Wehrmacht is not binding upon this country, nor does the German occupation of Poland const.i.tute a threat to the security of the Union of South Africa, A great roar of approval went up from the opposition benches and Dr Daniel Malan, froglike and bespectacled, smiled benignly, while on the government benches s.m.u.ts and his supporters registered their protest as loudly.

It is rather a local matter between Germany and Poland, Hertzog went on, and it gives this country no cause to join in the declaration of war. Accordingly I propose that South Africa remain neutral; that it cede the naval base at Simonstown to Britain, but in all other respects continue its present relationship with all the belligerents as if no war were being waged. The ageing prime minister was a fluent and persuasive speaker and as he continued enlarging his case for neutrality, Blaine Malcomess on the front bench of the government side was covertly watching the reaction of the s.m.u.ts supporters around him.

He knew which of them were as firmly committed as himself and the Ou Baas to stand by Britain, and which of them were wavering and uncertain. As Hertzog continued speaking, he sensed the swing of emotions towards the old general's side, and with a sense of disbelief and rising shame he foresaw the ignominious decision that the House was about to take. His anger rose to keep pace with his shame.

General Hertzog was still speaking, and Blaine was now only listening with half an ear as he scribbled a note to pa.s.s across to the Ou Baas, when abruptly his full attention flashed back to what the prime minister was saying.

Finally, coming to the ethics of the German invasion of Poland, a case could very well be made out for the justification of this action if it were taken into consideration that the security of the German state Blaine felt his spirits soar, and he sensed rather than saw the sudden shock and revulsion of feeling amongst those who had begun to waver towards the side of neutrality.

He has gone too far, Blaine wrote on a fresh sheet of his notepad. He is defending Hitler's aggression. We have won. He tore the sheet from the pad and handed it to General s.m.u.ts, who read it and nodded slightly, and rose to his feet to put the other side of the argument.

Britain is our friend, our oldest and our best friend. We must stand by her to the end, he said in his high-pitched voice, rolling his r's in his distinctive NIalmesbury bray.

Far from being a local dispute, the Polish invasion has consequences that reach far beyond Danzig and the corridor, into the hearts and souls of free men in every corner of the globe. When, at last, the motion, for war or neutrality, was put to the vote, Dr Malan's Nationalists voted as a block for neutrality, and one third of Hertzog's own party, together with three of his cabinet ministers, followed his lead.

However, s.m.u.ts and his own men, Reitz and Malcomess and Stuttaford and the others, carried the day and by the slim margin of eighty votes to sixty-seven, South Africa declared war on n.a.z.i Germany.

in a last desperate bid to thwart the declaration, General Hertzog called for dissolution of Parliament and a general election, but the governor-general, Sir Patrick Duncan, refused the request and instead accepted the old general's resignation and invited General Jan Christian s.m.u.ts to form a new government and take the nation to war.

The Ou Baas won't let me go, Blaine said bitterly, and Centaine ran to him across the bedroom of their cottage and stood on tiptoe to embrace him.

Oh thank G.o.d, Blaine my darling. I prayed and prayed and He answered me. I couldn't bear to lose you both. Not you and Shasa, I could never have survived it., I'm not proud that I will stay at home while others go., You have fought once, bravely, unselfishly, she told him.

You are a thousand times more valuable here than lying dead on a battlefield in a foreign land. The Ou Baas has convinced me of that, he sighed. With an arm around her waist he led her through to the sittingroom, and she knew that tonight for once they would not make love. His distress was too great. She knew that tonight he wanted only to talk, and it was her duty to listen to him while he poured out his doubts and fears and regrets.

They came out in a jumble, without logical sequence, and she sat close to him so he could touch her merely by stretching out a hand as she listened quietly.

Our position is so precarious, how can we wage a war when we command a majority of only thirteen votes in the House, while against us we have a solid opposition who hate the Ou Baas and what they call his English war? They will fight us every step of the way, while the people also are deeply divided against us, We have within our own borders an enemy as vicious as the n.a.z.is, the Ossewa Brandwag and the Black Shirts and the Grey Shirts, the Deutsche Bund in South West Africa, enemies within and without. She poured him another whisky and soda and brought him the Stuart crystal tumbler. It was his second drink that evening and she had never before seen him take more than one.

Pirow has betrayed us. He is one of them now, but for all those years he has been in a position of trust. Oswald Pirow had been the Minister of Defence under the Hertzog govemtment. We gave him a defence budget of fifty-six million and a brief to built up an affective modern army, but instead he treacherously gave us a paper army. We believed his reports and his a.s.surances, but now that he has gone we find ourselves without modern weapons, a handful of obsolete tanks and venerable aircraft and an army of fewer than fifteen hundred in the permanent force. Pirow refused to arm the nation for a war which he and Hertzog were determined we would never fight. The night wore on but both of them were too strung up to think of sleeping, and when he refused a third whisky she went through to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and he followed her. He stood behind her with his arms around her waist while they waited for the water to come to the boil.

General s.m.u.ts has given me the Interior Ministry in the new cabinet. One of the reasons he chose me was that I have already chaired the commission of enquiry into the Ossewa Brandwag and the other subversive organizations.

It will be one of my major concerns to suppress their efforts to disrupt our preparations for war. The Ou Baas himself has taken the Ministry of Defence, and he has already promised Britain an army of fifty thousand volunteers ready to fight anywhere in Africa. They took the coffee tray through to the sitting-room and as Centaine poured, the telephone rang, shrill and shocking in the silent cottage. She started and spilled steaming coffee over the tray.

What time is it, Blaine? Ten minutes to one. I won't answer it, let it ring, Centaine shook her head, staring at the insistent instrument, but he stood up.

Only Doris knows I'm here, he said. I had to let her know in case, He didn't have to explain further. Doris was his secretary, the only one in their confidence, and of course she had to know where to find him. Centaine picked up the telephone.

Mrs Courtney speaking. She listened for a moment. Yes, Doris, he is here. She handed the telephone to Blaine and turned away. He listened for a few moments, then said quietly, Thank you, Doris, I'll be there in twenty minutes. He hung up and looked up at Centaine.

I'm sorry, Centaine. I'll fetch your coat. She held it for him and he slipped his arms into the sleeves and turned to face her, b.u.t.toning it as he said, It's Isabella. He saw her surprise and went on, The doctor is with her.

They need me. Doris wouldn't say more, but it sounds serious. After Blaine had gone, she took the coffee pot and cups through to the kitchen, and rinsed them in the sink. Seldom had she felt so lonely. The cottage was silent and cold and she knew she could not sleep. She went back into the lounge and put a gramophone record on the turntable.

it was an aria from Verdi's Aida, always one of her favourites, and as she sat and listened to it the memories it aroused came stealing back out of the past, Michael and Mort Homme and the other long-ago war, and her melancholy swamped her.

She slept at last, sitting in the armchair with her legs curled up under her, and the telephone woke her with a start. She reached for it before she was properly awake.

Blaine! She recognized his voice instantly. What time is it? 'It's four o'clock, a few minutes after. Is something wrong, Blame? She came fully awake.

,Isabella, he said. She is asking for you. For me? Centaine was confused.

She wants you to come here. I can't, Blaine. That's not possible, you know that. She's dying, Centaine. The doctor says she won't last out the day. Oh G.o.d, Blaine, I'm so sorry. And with wonder at herself, she realized she truly was. Poor Isabella Will you come? Do you want me to, Blaine? It is her last request. If we refuse it, our guilt will be so much harder to bear. I'll come, she said and hung up.

She took only a few minutes to bathe her face and change and put on light make-up. She drove through the almost deserted streets, and Blaine's big gabled home was the only one in Newlands Avenue with lights burning.

He met her at the mahogany double front doors and he did not embrace her, but said simply, Thank you, Centaine. Only then she saw his daughter standing in the hall behind him.

h.e.l.lo, Tara, she greeted her. The girl had been weeping.

Her big grey eyes were puffy and swollen and rimmed with red, and her face was so pale that her dark auburn hair seemed to burn like a bush fire. I'm so sorry to hear about your mother."

No, you aren't. Tara stared at her with a flat hostile expression which suddenly wavered and cracked. She sobbed and ran down the pa.s.sageway. A door slammed in the back of the house.

She's very upset, Blaine said. I apologize for her., I understand, Centaine answered. I deserve at least part of that. He shook his head to deny it, but said simply, Please come with me. They climbed the circular staircase side by side and Centaine asked softly, 'What is it, Blaine? ,A degeneration of the spine and nervous system, a process that has been going on slowly over the years. Now there is pneumonia, and she can no longer resist. Pain? Centaine asked.

Yes, he replied. She has always had pain, more than the average person could bear. They went down the wide carpeted pa.s.sageway and Blaine tapped on the door at the end and then opened it.

Come in, please. The room was large and furnished in cool restful greens and blues. The curtains were closed and a night lamp burned on the bedside table. The man standing beside the bed was clearly a doctor. Blaine led Centaine to the four-poster bed and though she had tried to prepare herself, still she started when she saw the figure that lay upon the banked pillows.

She remembered Isabella Malcomess serene and gentle beauty. Now a death's head stared at her from sunken eye-sockets, and the fixed grin of yellowish teeth, the rictus of shrunken lips, was somehow obscene. The effect was heightened by the contrast of thick auburn hair which formed a cloud about the ravaged head.

It was kind of you to come. Centaine had to lean closer to the bed to hear the thin voice.

I came as soon as I heard you wanted me., The doctor intervened quietly. You may stay only a few minutes, Mrs Malcomess must rest. But Isabella fluttered her hand impatiently, and Centaine saw that it was a bird's claw of fragile bones covered with skin the colour of tallow and a ropy network of blue veins.

I wish to speak in private, she whispered. Please leave us, Doctor. Blaine leaned over her to adjust the pillows under her head.

Please don't tire yourself, dear, he said, and his gentleness towards the dying woman gave Centaine a jealous pang she could not suppress.

Blaine and the doctor left quietly, and closed the door with a click of the latch. They were alone together for the first time. Centaine was overcome by a sense of unreality. For so many years this woman had bulked large in her life, her very existence had meant that Centaine had to suffer all the vile emotions from guilt to jealousy, from anger to hatred.

But now that she stood beside her deathbed, they had all evaporated. All she felt was a vast sense of pity.

Come nearer, Centaine, Isabella whispered, beckoning her with another feeble flutter of her wasted hand. Talking is such an effort. Impulsively Centaine went down on her knees beside the bed so that their eyes were only inches apart. She felt a terrible need to repent for all the unhappiness she had caused and to ask for Isabella's forgiveness, but Isabella spoke first.

I told Blaine that I wanted to make my peace with you, Centaine. I told him I understood that the two of you had not been able to help falling in love, and that I realized you had tried to spare me as much as possible. I told him I knew that you were never vindictive, that although you could have taken him away, you never inflicted that final humiliation upon me, that although I was no longer a woman, you allowed me to retain the last shreds of my dignity. Centaine felt the pity flood her soul and fill her eyes. She wanted to take this frail dying creature in her arms and hold her, but something in Isabella's eyes prevented her, it was a fierce proud light and Centaine simply bowed her head and remained silent.

I told Blaine that you had filled his life with the happiness I could not give him, but despite that and because of your generosity, I was still able to keep part of him for myself., Oh, Isabella, I don't know how to tell you, I Centaine's voice choked and Isabella gestured her to silence.

She seemed to be gathering herself for some enormous effort. A faint flush of colour came back into her cheeks and the fierce light in her eyes flared up. Her breath quickened and when she spoke again her voice was stronger, harsher.

I told him all these things to persuade him to bring you here. If he had guessed what I truly intended, he would not have allowed you to come. She raised her head from the pillow and her voice became a serpent's hiss.

Now I can tell you how deeply I have hated you every waking hour of every long year, how my hatred kept me alive this long so that I could prevent you from having him as your husband, and now that I am dying that hatred is magnified a hundred times, She broke off and panted for breath, as Centaine recoiled before her glare. She realized that Isabella was a woman driven to madness by the agony she had endured, by the long corrosion of hatred and jealousy.

If a dying woman's curse has any force, Isabella spoke again, 'then I curse you, Centaine Courtney, with my last breath. May you experience the same torture you have inflicted upon me, may you know pain as I have known it.

The day you stand before the altar with my husband I will reach out to you from beyond the grave, No! Centaine stumbled to her feet, and backed towards the door. Stop it! Please, stop it! Isabella laughed, a shrill and taunting sound. I curse you, and let my curse blight your adulterous pa.s.sion. I curse every minute the two of you spend together when I have gone. I curse whatever seed he places in your womb, I curse each kiss and touch, I curse you and I curse your brat. I curse all your issue. An eye for an eye, Centaine Courtney.