SUSANNA

29| LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

Commander Wagenaer studied the plans he received from Commissioner Isbrand Gosker. There was a knock. It was Abraham Gabemma.

'Come hither,' he welcomed Abraham with a warm smile. 'It arrived.'

Abraham looked at the plans that lay spread out on his desk, held down by weights. 'What on earth have we here?' Abraham's eyes swept across the plans uncertain of what he was looking at.

'Gosker's instructions. I must build a fortress. A pentagon of stone. A castle. Quite spectacular. It will have twelve rooms.' He pointed to an area on the plans for the rooms. 'A dwelling for the Governor, there. The chief Merchant, here, and the garrison.' He sat down behind his desk. 'I have so many plans for this Colony, Abraham. I want to see our people indulging in the art of pottery. They must create all kinds of baked, glazed earthen ware. We must open a pottery. There must be a public market where they can sell their goods for a profit.' Together they looked at the plans.

'How long will it take to build a castle of this magnitude?

'Ten years. Or less. It depends on our labour. That is a headache. Enough of my ramblings. What brings you here, Abraham?'

Abraham handed him the document he had been holding on to. 'Pieter's Will. His body gave up the fight last night.'

Wagenaer hardly looked at the document. 'Do you have regrets Abraham?'

Abraham's face dropped, before easing into a relaxed mode. 'A few.'

Wagenaer sighed. 'You are lucky. I have many.'

'Is that allowed?' A smile pulled at the corners of Abraham's mouth.

'The Company? Regrets? Never. We are the offspring of the Golden Age.' They both laughed.

'Before I came here, I dreamt of living a life in semi-retirement. Peaceful. Tranquil. Comfortable. Look where I am. Look at this.' He gestured to the plans on his table.'

Abraham shrugged his shoulders. 'This place... It creeps up on you. Grows on you.'

'I never understood the meaning of freedom. I do now.'

'You travelled. Widely.'

'U-huh.'

'Head of trade in Canton? That is big.'

Commander Wagenaer lit his pipe. 'That Chinese porcelain mission failed...' He stoked his pipe.

'All that matters is the next posting. You are here. Thanks to the right ears, and the connections dare I add, of the right people.'

'Canton.' Wagenaer scoffed. He was in a pensive state. 'The Cantons of yesterday shape our future.'

'I disagree. This place, these past years proved otherwise.'

'Enlighten me.'

'Knowing the right people shape our future.'

Wagenaer sighed. 'Once you get on in years... things change. Connections have hidden costs. Personal costs.'

'If you could go back in time and undo one regret. Only one. What would you do?'