Snare of Serpents

by Виктория Холт

  After he had gone I turned to Roger. “I should like to know more about these matters.”

  “Of course. You’re going to live there. Naturally enough you want to know.”

  “The captain seemed quite concerned,” said Lilias.

  “Well, to put it briefly,” said Roger, “this jostling for power has been going on for some time, but when diamonds and gold were found in the country, it meant that people came and settled from elsewhere. They were mostly British subjects. Consequently the population changed and the newcomers, whom the Afrikaners called Uitlanders—Outlanders, of course—wanted to play a dominating role in the administration of the country. Paul Kruger was President of the Transvaal and he could see what was coming.”

  “He’s a very strong leader, I believe,” said Lilias.

  “Indeed he is. He realised at once that if the Uitlanders were given a vote the Afrikaners would be outnumbered, with disastrous consequences to them. They were suspicious of the British who, right from the first, had maintained a different attitude towards the black population. When the emancipation of slavery had taken place in Britain the British wanted to extend it to South Africa. This was something which the Boers could not tolerate because it robbed them of the labour on their farms. It is a long story of conflict.”

  “And now the captain seems to think it is ‘coming to the boil.’ “

  “We’ve been thinking that for some time. The reason that there is a scare now is because Kruger has ordained that no Uitlander may have a vote in the presidential elections, and only those who have lived fourteen years in the country and are forty years old can vote in the Volksraad elections. That is for the parliament, of course.”

  “It seems hardly fair if these Uitlanders had settled in the country.”

  “Exactly. Besides, many of them have become wealthy and are contributing considerably to the finances of the country and yet are denied a vote. You could not expect men like Cecil Rhodes and Jameson to stand aside and let such a state of affairs go on.”

  “Then, of course, there was the Jameson Raid,” said Lilias.

  “That delayed matters for some time. Especially when the Emperor of Germany sent a telegram congratulating Kruger on his success in the affair; on the other hand, there is no doubt that the British government is more determined than ever to show its strength.”

  “So it does seem as though there is some danger of big trouble?” said Lilias anxiously.

  “As I say, the trouble is not new. It will be sorted out, no doubt. Negotiations are going on now, I believe, between Joseph Chamberlain, who is Secretary of State for the Colonies, and Jan Smuts, Kruger’s young State Attorney. Being away all this time, I have only heard what is happening through the British press.”

  “We did not take very much notice of it,” said Lilias. “Since we decided to come to South Africa there has been so much to do.”

  “I should forget it.”

  “But if there is this conflict between the Afrikaners and the Uitlanders, of whom we should be regarded as members, might they not be a little hostile towards us?”

  “My dear lady, nobody would be hostile to you, I am sure. No, no. They will be delighted to have you come to give your skills to their children. I am sure you will find a warm welcome awaiting you. Moreover, I shall be nearby. Riebeeck House is not far from the schoolhouse. So I shall be at hand if needed.”

  I felt he was expecting us to say that we were greatly comforted, but I—and I am sure Lilias felt the same—could not truthfully say that. We were beginning to wonder with a certain trepidation what lay ahead of us.

  CAPE TOWN WAS BEAUTIFUL. I wished that we could have stayed to explore. The sun was welcoming; the people seemed friendly. From what I had heard from Roger and the captain, I had been prepared for a hostile reception from some members of the community. We were Uitlanders; and there was a controversy in progress among the people here. But there was no sign of this.

  I marvelled at the grandeur of the Table Mountain and Table Bay.

  “What a beautiful country!” I cried; and Lilias agreed with me.

  We smiled at each other. We both felt that it was going to be all right.

  The long train journey through the veldt was of absorbing interest, if somewhat exhausting. It was five hundred and forty miles from Cape Town to Kimberley and Roger had warned us that it would take thirty hours.

  “It’s fortunate that you do not have to trek,” he added.

  We had to be grateful to him. Throughout the journey, his air of authority brought him the best and immediate attention; and we shared in that.

  “How different it would have been without his help,” I said to Lilias, and she agreed.

  At last we arrived in Kimberley.

  Roger Lestrange insisted on taking us to the schoolhouse before going on with Myra to Riebeeck House.

  As we drove through the town, Lilias and I gazed intently from the windows of the carriage.

  “It’s a prosperous town,” Roger told us. “It’s growing fast. That is what diamonds have done for it. Besides, it’s on the direct route from Cape Town to the Transvaal.” With pride he pointed out some of the fine buildings—the Town Hall, the High Court and the botanical gardens.

  Lilias and I exchanged gratified glances. We had said when we heard of the troubles of this country that we should have been better in Australia or New Zealand. But this was very agreeable.

  The carriage had drawn up before a small white building set back from the road in a kind of courtyard.

  “The schoolhouse,” announced Roger.

  The door opened even as he spoke and a man emerged. He was in his early thirties, I imagined, fresh-complexioned and smiling.

  “Mr. John Dale,” said Roger. “Let me introduce you to the new schoolmistresses, John.”

  “This is Miss Milne and Miss Grey?” said the young man, looking from one of us to the other.

  “This is Miss Grey,” said Lilias. “I am Miss Milne.”

  He shook her hand and then mine.

  “And this,” said Roger Lestrange, “is my wife.”

  John Dale held out his hand and shook Myra’s.

  “Welcome to Kimberley,” he said. “I hope you will be very happy here, Mrs. Lestrange.”

  Roger stood smiling benignly and said: “Well, we have had a long journey and my wife and I will be off. Can I leave the ladies in your care, John?”

  “Certainly.” He turned to us. “Do please come in. Let me take your baggage.”

  “There is much more to come,” said Lilias.

  “Of course. But now, let’s get in.”

  “So,” said Roger, “we’ll leave you.”

  We thanked him sincerely for all he had done.

  “We shall be seeing you soon. We shall want to hear what you think of it and how you are settling in, shall we not, Myra?”

  “Oh yes … yes. Please come and see us soon,” said Myra.

  “Of course they will, my dear,” put in Roger. “We’re so close. You’re not going to lose them. Well, we shall be getting on. You’re safe in John’s hands. Au revoir.”

  We had stepped into a hall and John Dale brought in our bags and set them down.

  “Now,” he said. “Let me explain who I am. I’m a member of the council which looks after the town. We have been very concerned about the education of our young people. It’s a very small school, as you will see. We’ve never had more than about twenty pupils. The difficulty has been to get teachers who stay. Originally we had a Miss Groot who was here for twenty years. Then she became too old and we had a young woman who stayed for two years, married and went away. Since then we have found it difficult to find someone who would come and feel a real interest in the school. When Mr. Lestrange told us about you, we were delighted. I hope you will like it here.”

  “And I hope you will find us satisfactory,” said Lilias.

  “There are two of you …”

  He hesitated, and Lilias said quickly: “Yes, we know
that you only needed one teacher.”

  “The fact is that we should like to have two teachers … but the funds won’t run to it. If we had more pupils, well then, we should need more teachers. But the fees we charge are not large and the school is really supported by the town … and sometimes it seems that not everyone gives education the respect it deserves.”

  “We do understand,” said Lilias. “That is quite satisfactory. We wanted to be together and we are prepared to come and work here.”

  He still looked worried. Then he said: “I am forgetting. You must be tired and hungry. I have brought with me a bottle of wine and some food. Would you like to eat now or would you prefer that I show you the place?”

  “Let us see the place and perhaps we could wash some of the grime from the journey from us. Then we could eat and talk in comfort, if that is agreeable to you.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. There is an oil stove on which we can heat water. I’ll put that on and while it is heating I can show you round.”

  We were quite pleased with what we saw. There was a large room with a long table and chairs in it together with a large cupboard. We opened this and found books and slates inside.

  “The schoolroom,” said Lilias with approval.

  In addition to the schoolroom there were two small rooms on the ground floor, and a kitchen with a back door which opened onto a small garden. Shrubs grew in profusion and Lilias gave a cry of pleasure.

  John Dale was smiling, evidently delighted by our appreciation.

  Lilias said: “We had no idea what we were coming to.”

  “And feared the worst?” he asked.

  “Well, we did not imagine anything so good as this, did we, Diana?”

  Upstairs there were four small rooms, simple but quite comfortably furnished.

  “Bedrooms and a study and still one room left,” said Lilias. She went to the window and looked out on the street. Then she turned to me with shining eyes.

  “I want to make this into a flourishing school,” she said.

  “You will,” replied John Dale. “And now that water will be hot and I’ll bring it up for you.”

  “We’ll help,” said Lilias. I had rarely seen her so excited.

  In the room downstairs John Dale had set out the meal. There was cold chicken, crusty bread, a bottle of wine and some luscious pears.

  “This is a lovely welcome to our new life,” said Lilias.

  “I want you to know how glad we are that you have come,” John Dale told us. “Let me tell you something about the town and the people.”

  “We are longing to hear.”

  “I think you will like the climate, although you may find it a little too hot in summer.”

  “We are prepared for that,” I said.

  “Kimberley, as you probably know, owes its prosperity to diamonds. Before ‘71 it was more or less a village. Then, of course, there were the discoveries … and everything changed. Kimberley is diamonds. Most of us here are engaged in the business in some form or other … if not finding them, preparing them for the market and actually marketing them.”

  “You, too?” asked Lilias.

  “Yes, I work in the offices of one of the biggest companies.”

  “Would that be Mr. Lestrange’s company?”

  “Oh no … not ours. When he came to Kimberley some years ago, he bought a share in one of the other companies. Shortly afterwards he married and acquired Riebeeck House. It is one of the finest residences in the town. Tell me, when did you propose to open the school?”

  “There is no reason for delay,” said Lilias. “Let us have a day or so to settle in and find out what pupils we have and what materials there are …”

  “Of course. What about starting on Monday? That would give you the rest of this week and the weekend.”

  “And the pupils?”

  “There are about ten of them so far. There will be more.”

  “What ages?”

  “Varying.” He looked at her anxiously. “Will that make it difficult?”

  “It is what one expects and as there are two of us, we can divide into two classes perhaps. However, we shall have to see.”

  “I’ll circulate the news that school will start on Monday.”

  “How very kind you are.”

  “Not at all. I am delighted that we are getting the school started again. Education is so necessary. I wish everyone here agreed with me.”

  “These pears are delicious,” I said.

  “We grow the finest fruit in the world here.”

  “What a beautiful country it is!” said Lilias. “To us it is like the Promised Land.”

  He laughed. “I’ll remember that. I am going to drink a toast. May it live up to that.”

  When he had left and we were alone in our schoolhouse, Lilias and I agreed that it had been a wonderful welcome.

  The Kimberley Treasure

  THE NEXT WEEK was a busy one and most enjoyable. I had never seen Lilias so excited.

  “If I had tried to imagine something I wanted to do, it would have been exactly this,” she announced. “It’s like starting a new school … my school.”

  She went through the books that were there and made lists of what she would like to have. John Dale, who was quite a frequent visitor, joined in the enthusiasm. He would see the council and discover whether she could have what she wanted.

  “He’s a great ally,” said Lilias. “How lucky we are to have him here!”

  On the appointed day the children arrived. There were fourteen of them—not a great number but more than we had dared hope for. Their ages ranged from five to fourteen and Lilias decided that I should take the fives to sevens, of whom there were six, and she would teach the elder ones; I with my pupils would be at one end of the largish room and she at the other.

  It was a strange feeling to be confronted by the young children. They stared at me with interest and I felt it was going to be a trying ordeal and I only hoped that I should be able to deal with it satisfactorily. I managed to struggle through and began by teaching the alphabet and nursery rhymes.

  When the children had gone to their homes Lilias and I cooked simple meals for ourselves in the little kitchen and discussed what had happened during the day. Lilias was in her element; I was less sure of myself. This was Lilias’ vocation, I reminded her. My abilities in the teaching field were yet to be tested.

  “You’ll come to it,” she assured me. “You must remember that you mustn’t lose your patience. Never let them see that you are ruffled in any way. You’ve lost the battle if you do; and there is a certain battle on. They’re watching you as closely as you are watching them. You have to show the right amount of authority. Be kind. Be patient. But make them aware all the time that you are in charge.”

  “I’ll try to remember that. I’ll stick to the rules … if I can.”

  For the first week I thought of little but doing the job. The days started to pass quickly. The routine had to be followed rigorously. Lessons all morning. The children came at nine and left at twelve. Then we would cook something light and eat a meal to be ready for when they returned at two o’clock; they stayed till four.

  We were becoming known in the town and the shopkeepers were very pleasant to us. We had the impression that the townsfolk were pleased that the school was open again.

  Of all the children in my class there was one girl who interested me particularly. I was haunted by her rather sad little face. Her name was Anna Schreiner and she was about five years old. Her mother brought her to school each morning and called to pick her up at the appointed times with most of the parents of the younger children. She was a quiet child and, if addressed, usually replied in monosyllables; she hardly ever smiled. Her mother was young and pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed and rather plump. It struck me that Anna was brooding on something which she could not get out of her mind.

  One day the children were copying the letters I had put on the blackboard; so deep in concentration were the
y that there was hardly a sound except that of pencils scratching on slates. I wandered round, looking at what they were doing, commenting now and then. “Is that an 0 or a Q? A Q? It hasn’t got its little tail on, has it?” “The loop on that P comes down too far. See?” Then I came to Anna. She was working laboriously and all her letters seemed perfect.

  I sat down beside her. “That’s very good,” I said.

  She did not smile. She just went on with the letters.

  “Is everything all right, Anna?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you like school?”

  She nodded again.

  “You are happy here?”

  Again the nod. I was getting nowhere.

  She continued to bother me. I thought she was an unnatural child, aloof from the others.

  I watched her with her mother. Her face did not brighten when she saw her. She just ran up to her and took her hand; and they went off together.

  I told Lilias of my interest in the child.

  “Children vary,” she said. “She’s just a solemn child.”

  “She has that pretty mother. I wonder if she is an only child?”

  “John Dale would probably know. Ask him next time you see him.”

  That time would not be far off, I guessed. He was a frequent visitor to the schoolhouse. He often brought food and wine as he had on the first day and we would share what he called a “picnic.”

  When I asked him about Anna Schreiner he said: “Oh yes. Poor child. I understand her living in perpetual fear. She probably imagines Hell’s Gates are open wide to receive her if she’s five minutes late for school.”

  “Her mother looks as though she is quite a jolly person.”

  “Greta, yes. Well, she was … once. I don’t understand why she married old Schreiner. Although there were rumours …”

  “Rumours?” I cried.

  “It’s probably a lot of scandal.”

  “Mr. Dale,” said Lilias. “It helps us to teach our children if we know something of their background.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what I know. Piet Schreiner is rather a formidable character. Calvinistic … puritanical. There are a few like him in this town … and all over the country, it seems. There is a strong feeling of puritanism among the Boers. He is even more fanatical than most. One could imagine his going off on the Great Trek. Hard-working … strictly honest and … godly—so he would say. It seems sad that someone with his virtues should put such an interpretation on his religion as to make life miserable for everyone around him. For such as he is, everything people do seems to have its roots in sin. I suppose he himself is always on guard against it.”