Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur (электронная книга TXT) 📗
The house was a huge rambling Victorian mansion, built at the turn of the century by one of the old mining magnates from the Witwatersrand, and in desperate need of the attention that Centaine proceeded to lavish upon it. However, she kept the name Rhodes Hill. For her one of its chief attractions was that a mere twenty minutes in the Daimler took her over the Constantia Nek pass and down to the vineyards of Weltevreden.
Shasa had taken over the chairmanship of Courtney Mining and Finance at the war's end, although Centaine kept a seat on the board and never missed a meeting. Now Shasa and Tara moved into the great chateau of Weltevreden that she had vacated, but Centaine visited there every weekend and sometimes more often. It gave her a pang when Tara rearranged the furniture that she had left and relandscaped the front lawns and gardens, but with an effort she managed to hold her tongue.
often these days she thought of the old Bushman couple who had rescued her from the sea and the desert, and then she would sing softly the praise song that O'wa had composed for the infant Shasa: His arrows will fly to the stars and when men speak his name it will be heard as far And he will find good water, wherever he travels, he will find good water.
Although after all these years the clicks and tones of the San language tripped strangely on her tongue, she knew that the blessing of O'wa had borne fruit. That, and her own rigorous training had led Shasa to the good waters of life.
Gradually Shasa with the help of David Abrahams in Windhoek had instilled into the sprawling Courtney Mining and Finance Company a new spirit of youthful vigour and adventure. Although the old hands, Abe Abrahams and Twenty-man-Jones, grumbled and shook their heads and although Centaine was occasionally forced to side with them and veto Shasa's wilder more risky projects, the company regained direction and increased in stature. Each time that Centaine examined the books or took her seat below her son at the boardroom table, there was less to complain about and more cause for self-congratulation. Even Dr Twenty-man-Jones, that paragon of pessimists, had been heard to mutter, 'The boy has got a head on his shoulders. And then appalled at his own lapse, he had added morosely, Mind you, it will take a full day's work from all of us to keep it there. When Shasa had been nominated as the United Party candidate for the parliamentary by-election of Hottentots Holland and had snatched a close-fought victory from his Nationalist opponent, Centaine saw all her ambitions for hi-in becoming reality. He would almost certainly be offered something more important after the next general election, perhaps the job as deputy minister of mines and industry.
After that, a full seat in the cabinet, and beyond that? She let the idea of it send little thrills up her spine, but did not allow herself to dwell on it in case the thought brought illfortune on the actuality. Still it was possible. Her son was well favoured, even the eye-patch added to his individuality, he spoke amusingly and articulately, and he had the trick of making people listen and like him. He was rich and ambitious and clever, and he had herself and Tara behind him. It was possible and more than possible.
By some remarkable dialectic contortion Tara Malcomess Courtney had retained her social conscience intact while taking up the management of the Weltevreden household as though to the manner born.
it was typical that she retained her maiden name, and that she could rush from the elegant surroundings of Weltevreden to the slum clinics and feeding centres for the poor out on the Cape flats without missing a step, taking with her larger charitable donations than Shasa really liked to part with.
She threw herself into the duties of motherhood with equal abandon. Her first three efforts were all male, healthy and rumbustious. In order of seniority they were Sean, Garrick and Michael. With her fourth visit to the childbed she produced, with little effort and time wasted in labour, her masterpiece. This one Tara named after her own mother, Isabella and from the moment he first picked her up and she puked a little sour clotted milk on his shoulder, Shasa was totally besotted with her.
Up to this time it was Tara's spirit and intriguing individuality that had kept Shasa from growing bored and responding to the subtle and less than subtle invitations that were showered on him by circling female predators.
Centaine, fully aware that Shasa's veins were charged with hot de Thiry blood, agonized that Tara seemed oblivious of the danger and dismissed her veiled warnings with an offhand, Oh, Mater, Shasa isn't like that. Centaine knew that was exactly the way he was. Mon Dieu, he started at fourteen. But she relaxed after the other woman finally entered his life in the shape of Isabella de Thiry Malcomess Courtney. It would have been so easy for a fatal slip to spoil it all, to dash the sweet cup from her lips just as she was able to savour it to the full, but now at last Centaine was secure.
She sat under the oaks beside the polo practice grounds of Weltevreden, a guest on the estate she had built up and cherished, but an honoured guest and well content. The coloured nannies had charge of the babies, Michael just a year and a bit and Isabella still at the breast.
Sean was out in the middle of the field. He sat on the pommel of Shasa's saddle, shrieking with excitement and delight, as his father ran the pony at a full gallop down between the far goal posts, brought him up short in a swirl of dust, pivoted and came back in a crescendo of hoof beats.
Meanwhile Sean, secure in the circle of Shasa's left arm, urged him Faster! Faster, Papa! Go faster! On Centaine's knee Garrick bounced impatiently, Me! he yelled. Now me! Shasa. brought the pony in still at full gallop, then reined him down to a dead stop. He lifted Sean off the pommel against his best effort to stick like a bush tick. Garrick slipped off Centaine's lap and toddled to his father.
The, Daddy, my turn! Shasa leaned out of the saddle, swung the child up in front of him and they were off again at a gallop. It was a game of which they never tired; they had already exhausted two ponies since lunchtime.
There was the sound of a motor vehicle coming down from the chateau, and Centaine sprang to her feet involuntarily as she recognized the distinctive beat of the Bentley's engine.
Then she composed herself and went to meet Blaine with a little more dignity than her eagerness dictated, but as he stepped out of the vehicle she saw his expression and she quickened her step.
What is it, Blaine? she demanded as he kissed her cheek.
Is something wrong? No, of course not, he assured her. The Nationalists have announced their candidates for the Cape constituencies, that's all., Who have they put up against you? She was all attention now. Old Van Schoor again? No, my dear, new blood. Someone you have probably never heard of, Dawid Van Niekerk. 'Who have they nominated for Hottentots Holland? When he hesitated, she was immediately insistent. Who is it, Blaine? He took her arm and began to walk her slowly back to join the family at the tea-table under the oaks.
Life is a strange thing, he said.
Blaine Malcomess, I asked you for an answer, not a few gems of homespun philosophy. Who is it? I'm sorry my dear, he murmured regretfully. They have nominated Manfred De La Rey as their official party candidate. Centaine stopped dead, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Blaine tightened his grip on her arm to steady her as she swayed on her feet. Since the beginning of the war Centaine had heard or seen nothing of her second, unacknowledged, son.
Shasa began his campaign with an open meeting in the Boy Scouts hall of Somerset West.
He and Tara drove out the thirty miles from Cape Town to this beautiful little village which nestled at the foot of Sir Lowry's Pass beneath the rugged barrier of the Hottentots Holland mountains. Tara insisted that they take her old Packard. She never felt comfortable in Shasa's new Rolls.
