SUSANNA

32| A GOOD SLAVE

Abraham Gabemma stood in the doorway, watching his friend from a distance.

Thomas, widely known as the baker, wore a woolen cap that rested above his eyes. The muscles on his arms bulged with exertion as he boxed and kneaded a huge piece of dough with his fists. His face, a network of concentration eased into a sigh when he conquered the mountain of flour and it lay in front of him, an elastic and pliable heap. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up, aware that the chatter of the slaves around him had stopped. Abraham, who had been watching him from the doorway, applauded him. The baker wiped his hands on his flour-strewn apron.

'Abraham,' he exclaimed and untied the black, striped apron wrapped around his waist.

'Thomas.' They shook hands.

'It smells heavenly in here,' said Abraham. He followed the baker to the adjacent room. 'Nothing beats the smell of baked bread.' He sniffed the air with closed eyes.

Thomas pulled out a chair for Gabemma next to his small desk.

'And? Am I to believe the ferocious southeast wind out there blew our very own fiscus into my bakery today?"

Abraham Gabemma smiled. 'How is business, Thomas?'

'What can I say? The other day I was just another soldier surviving on a pittance and arrack. And now?' He threw his arms wide and surveyed the modestly furnished room that also served as a store. 'Today I am the Colony's monopoly baker, thanks to you. It was the right thing to resign from the service of the VOC. The garrison was no longer meant for me. The bakery is doing well. Very well.'

'Better than the fishing industry?' They burst out laughing.

'Much better. I'm my own boss now. Without the burden of a partner like that Jan Jansz. Enough about me, what brings you here?'

He took off his hat and placed it on his lap. 'Wagenaer has been reassigned. And the VOC is posting me to Batavia.'

'The only direction you will move from now on, is upwards. Who is coming in Wagenaer's place?'

'That is why I am here. I have a request... as a friend. It must be done before the new Commander takes office.'

'For you, anything, my friend. If it was not for your influence, I would not be here.' The baker shifted under the pained face of the fiscal. 'And what lies so heavy on your face?'

'Angela van Bengal.'

'Ahh. Your Angela you saved from van Riebeeck?'

They laughed. Abraham's thoughts were elsewhere when he tapped with his fingers on the table. 'She is a good slave.'

'That she is. That she is.'

'We, especially Petronella, don't want to leave her without a proper ward... This is not a place for single women.'

'Any woman,' added Thomas.

'I heard rumours at the inn about those kids.'

'It is the old story...'

'Then it's true-'

'Afraid so. That useless van Assen. Claimed he got cold feet and what his family would do if they found out he married a slave. So, he left to secure his inheritance back home.'

'I heard. I must admit I'm not surprised.'

'She will not survive the whoremonger and her husband. Petronella cannot find rest for her soul. Angela is a decent woman. Without her my Petronella would have committed suicide in this place. She needs a reliable ward. Someone like you...'

His eyes widened. 'Me? A ward? No, no. Please no.'

'Do not panic. Not yet. It will be a mutual agreement. One that will benefit everyone.'

'I do not have a clue-'

'Angela knows my business very well.'

The baker took the beanie off his head and fidgeted with it between his fingers. 'You have my ears as a friend, but-'

'Help her with an apprenticeship-'

'I'm a baker, what do I know about such things.'

'Take her in. Give her food and a place to sleep. Only for six months. By that time I would have heard from Batavia.'

'What if I decide to go back home with my family. What then?'

'It won't interfere with your plans for the future'

'People talk. My reputation-'

'That is why an apprenticeship is perfect. Help her on her feet. After that she will fly, I promise you. Prepare her for manumission. I am afraid this place will devour her without a ward.

'What is in it for me?'

'She is a good worker. She can work in your bakery. You can structure her services to suit your needs until she can stand on her own feet.'

'You ask a lot... for a slave with how many illegitimate children?

'Three. Anna, Jacobus and John. They are currently the property of the Company. So they are not with her.'

'I don't know-'

'She deserves it. And those children.'

'There is the issue of their...You know they are different to us, Abraham.' The baker stood up and walked back-and-forth around the desk squashing the cap between his hands.

'Come on Thomas, I, you, everyone knows the Bengal women-You know how these things work. They do not have a shot if we do not help them. I must protect her from Barbara and that husband of hers.'

"They are the property of the VOC. It is permissible. Why make an exception of her? They are slaves. Gentiles and worshippers of idols... People without values and morals.'

'Thomas! I came as a friend. I am asking you to do this for me. As a favour... just as you came to me and begged me to free you from your post as a soldier... Now I come to you, a freeman, begging you to act as a ward for Angela until she is manumitted. Will you do that for me? For Petronella?'

'It is a big ask.'

'It will mean a lot to us. Especially Petronella.'

'When should all this be done?'

'Before I leave. If all goes well, she should be manumitted in late April.'

'What happens after that?'

'We arranged something with the young Basson-'

'Arnoldus? The soldier?'

'He is willing to marry her. He intends to end his services in the VOC and work as a freeman for the Saldanha fishing industry...under Lacus.'

Abraham Gabemma stood up and pushed his chair under the table. He dusted off the flour that had accumulated on his dark cloak. He picked up his wide-brimmed hat, looked at the feather on the side, adjusted it and pushed it into his head.

He extended his hand to the baker who stood with his beanie scrunched between his hands. 'Thank you.' Müller took Gabemma's outstretched hand.

'For the sake of friendship,' Muller responded.'

'It is the right thing to do, Thomas. Petronella and I will forever remain in your debt.'

'Who is replacing Wagenaer?'

'A Cornelis. Cornelis van Quaelbergen. Due to arrive in late August with the Dordrech.'

'What can we expect?'

'If the rumour mill is anything to go by, brace yourself. There is only one way. His.'

The two men chuckled. 'Lord forbid. Not another van Riebeeck,' sighed Thomas.

Abraham was serious, once again. 'I want to do this, Thomas. For Angela, and her children. There are many wrongs I cannot correct but this is one life I must restore. If you get to know her you will understand. She is endearing, charming, and downright decent...'