Conquest

unable to understand what was going on.

Renzi turned to Therese. ‘A most interesting country, I’m persuaded. Have you had time to see much of it?’ He was intrigued by her transformation – and seeing her so far into the border lands.

Her expression tightened. ‘No. And yourself, Mr Secretary?’ Her voice was hard, commanding.

Renzi gave a saintly smile and pointedly looked around the gathering, sitting with varying degrees of bafflement. All had Dutch, none had French, and only one spoke English. She picked up on it and rattled off some Dutch, which eased the atmosphere and muttered exchanges began among them. Stoll did not translate but looked troubled.

‘Cabbage bredie, sir?’ Mevrouw Reinke said brightly, looking at Renzi.

‘Thank you,’ he said, and faced Therese again, adopting a tone of light conversation. ‘If I might remark it, do you not miss the life in la belle France – the fashions, the salons?’

‘Some things must be borne,’ she answered flatly.

The meal went forward awkwardly. Then Reinke pushed away his plate and growled something, daring comment.

‘He hopes that all present enjoyed their meal,’ murmured Stoll.

Mevrouw Reinke began clearing the table, saying apologetically, ‘He not himself, Meester. He’s worry the Xhosa will cross the Zuurveld.’

Renzi stiffened. An incursion? ‘Please tell me more, Mevrouw.’

She smiled. ‘Reinke don’ want me talking, but we hearing a crazy man live wi’ them, givin’ out muskets. They has guns – there’s to be no stopping of ’em.’

The Boer snapped at her harshly and she fled.

Could this be the real secret army, an unstoppable flood of savages? No – it was weeks of travel across the mountains before they were a danger to Cape Town and the tribe would soon tire of it. None the less it should be attended to as soon as possible. Renzi lifted his head thoughtfully and saw Therese staring at him with a set face.

‘Your pardon, Mam’selle, but I do find your presence here somewhat curious.’ There was more than a little about her that was unsettling – known to be aloof and seldom to be seen in Cape Town, keeping to herself and now to be found familiarly in the furthest reaches of the colony, presumably far from her family estate. And what lay behind the brittle defensiveness?

She stood suddenly. ‘I find the question impertinent. It’s no business of yours, M’sieur, and I shall bid you goodnight.’ She turned and left quickly.

‘A strange lady,’ Stoll murmured.

Renzi nodded.

At breakfast Therese was composed and icily calm. ‘Did you sleep well, M’sieur Renzi?’ she asked, over the corn and bean porridge.

‘I did – but the dismal howling in the night was not to my liking.’

‘The hyenas? You will be used to them.’ One of her servants entered and whispered something. She nodded, replying briefly, and he left, a remarkably huge man, Renzi noted, with fingers like bananas.

‘We will be leaving directly and I must now say adieu.’ She stood up and held out her hand. ‘Bon voyage, M’sieur.’

Renzi felt the fingers move slightly and became aware that a small piece of paper was being transferred into his hand. He bowed elegantly. ‘A safe journey, Mam’selle.’

He wandered over to the mantelpiece and discreetly read the note. It was brief and to the point: I have information concerning the Xhosa. I do not want to be seen by others talking with you. I shall stop my horses beyond the first bend and wait.

Renzi lingered a short time, then told his secretary, ‘I do think I’ll take a walk in the morning air for an hour, Mr Stoll. When you’ve finished, please prepare our wagon – we’re returning.’

The freshness of the new day was bracing and he stepped out along the gritty track, careful to look right and left as though admiring the grand scene. Near the bend around the mountain flank, he stopped to inspect a pretty montane flower, taking the opportunity to look back whence he’d come. No one was watching.

The track wound sharply around. Therese was standing beside a string of horses with three hard-looking men.

‘Did anyone see you?’ she asked quickly.

‘No. I’m expected back in an hour.’

Her tense manner eased fractionally. ‘That’s good. Now – why are you here?’

Renzi was taken aback by her question and its tone of blunt grimness. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘So high in government, trekking this far up-country – there’s more to you than it seems, Mr Secretary.’

He drew himself up. ‘Mam’selle, if you have some information for me concerning—’

‘I’ll ask you again. What are you doing out here?’

‘Which in course is confidential government business and not of your concern. Now, if you have something to tell me, do so, or I shall—’

‘You’re frightened, searching out something. Now, what would it be that it brings the colonial secretary himself out here?’