SUSANNA

16| JUSTICE

Abraham Gabemma, the newly appointed fiscal responsible for the administration of the Colony's schatkis walked with fast-paced strides to meet up with the Commander on his morning inspection of the Company Gardens.

'Commander,' he greeted and lifted his hat.

'To what do I owe this assault of my peace this early in the morning?'

Gabemma smiled. 'My heartfelt apologies, Commander.' He put his handon his hat, removed it from his head and curtsied with a sweeping hand gesture. 'I thought it wise that you hear the final execution of the Woutersz matter...'

The Commander clenched his free hand behind his back. 'Finish and be gone.'

'I took the Schapenjacht to Robben Island to oversee the execution of Resolution 20.' The young fiscal, unnerved by Van Riebeeck's darting eyes that pinned him down paused, uncertain.

'I do not have the whole day.'

'Jan Woutersz-'

'Do not mention the name of that cripple drunk in my presence. Ever,' he said, waving his finger across Gabemma's face. 'Get to the point.'

'I ur...The new superintendent is now overseeing the servants, the slaves, and the exiles.'

'Good. Overhagen will shake things up on that Island. We need people like Ryk. Out here...' He paused and studied the land, once a dense forest, turned into a flat square of soil stripped of tthe indigenous trees and fynbos shrubbery which had to make way for the Company Gardens. 'Out here I need men with honour and commitment to the vision of building this refreshment station for the Company.'

Abraham cleared his throat. 'The Schelvis was dispatched to bring the previous superintendent and his family back to the mainland. I will put them on the next ship that leaves for Batavia, but the son-'

'I must be on my way. Any other matters?'

'The mad slave is back on the mainland.'

The Commander's irritation was rising and it was tangible in his voice. 'What on earth for?'

Gabemma, sensing he had to tread with caution, gave it his best shot. 'I am afraid her mind is-'

His Commander tore into him, once more. 'The Company do not take care of slaves. Let alone-'

'The mad slave is beyond repair, Commander. She, in good conscience, is unfit for labour, and unable to earn the fare for her ration of rice and beans.'

'You know, Abraham,' said the Commander. His tone was low, his speech slow. 'Leaders, real leaders, do the unconscionable when faced with matters that stand in the way of their vision.' He took a deep breath, whipped out his handkerchief and held it between his ringed fingers, his thoughts far away. As if reminded of the young man's presence he glanced at him and continued. 'Do you remember that horse I had? The one the lion got to that night in the shed?'

'Very clearly, Commander. The one you said was worth more than the labour of ten slaves? I remember that night very well. We searched for that lion for two whole days. I still remember when the Hottentoo warriors found him and-'

'This story is not about the lion.'

'It is not?'

'No. Not really. Anyway. Do you remember what happened to the horse?'