Krotoa was up at first light. Maria, still in bed, pulled the blanket over her head as another sunlit day unfolded outside.
'Mevrouw?' Krotoa stood in the doorway, waiting for a response. Maria grunted, threw the blankets to one side and sat up, her head against the wooden headboard.
'There.' She gestured with eyes to a pile of material stacked on a chair. 'Place it with the rest. I have no need for it.'
Krotoa glanced at the chair. 'Those colours will look beautiful on you, Madame. Better than black.'
'We mourn our dead in black.'
'When we die we are return to the earth. That's what Autshumao's says when we Tsui calls one of us home.' Krotoa picked up the material. She paused at the door. 'Why do you mourn? And why must you wear black to remember your dead? Is it in that book that your Tsui left for you?' She pointed to the Bible.
Maria reached out and picked up the Bible. 'No. In here it says I must be happy He called them home.' She opened it at the marker sticking out on top and ran her fingers over the page.
'Then do what your Tsui orders. Make yourself new dresses. You have enough black ones.'
'Stop. Your ancestor, whatever you call him, is different. Your god is not my God. My God is in here, now leave. I gave you an order.'
Krotoa took the fabric and sauntered to the next room where the rest were stored away at the bottom of a huge cupboard. One by one she opened each piece of fabric. There were velvets, silks, cottons and the sheerest chiffons in bright red, blue, dark green and white. She took each piece, draped it around her body and ran her rough hands over the luxurious fabrics.
'Eva?' It was Maria. 'What are you doing?'
'Nothing.' Krotoa folded the piece in her hand and packed everything away under the watchful eyes of Maria.
'Stop with your lies.'
'Sorry, madam. Only shaking out the dust and folding them.'
'Those were not your orders.'
'My mistake. Sorry Madame. Will not happen again.'
'It better not. Prepare my bath. Then leave. Abraham needs attention.'
'Yes Madame.'
Later that afternoon the Commander summoned Krotoa to his office. Before he spoke she started explaining upon entering. 'I did nothing. I only opened the material and folded it-'
He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and looked at from behind his desk. Leisurely he lit his pipe and listened without making eye contact or responding. When she finally stopped rambling about everything she had done and how the madame saw her shake the dust from the beautiful fabric, he scoffed.
'That's not why you are here.'
'No?'
'You have a new assignment. An important one. Very important.'
She moved closer to his desk. 'A new assignment?'
'Watch that Domineer for me.'
Krotoa' s face dropped. She flopped into the chair. 'What has he been up to now? Is it that woman slave Nommoa likes? Show pity mijnheer she is only a slave.'
'Who gave you permission to make yourself at home in my chairs? On your paws.'
'Sorry, mijnheer.'
'Know your place. You stand when I speak. And you sit when I order you to sit. Did I make myself clear?'
'Clear mijnheer. Eva stands when mijnheer speaks to Eva and Eva sits when mijnheer orders her to sit.'
'What woman are you talking about?'
'The one-ear slave who arrived yesterday. The one who lies chained and dying of her own smells and spirits,' she said without breathing.
'The slave from Bengal who will surely die if her ear is not treated.'
'And who is this they whose lips are too loose for their own good?'
'The soldiers. And your servants.'
'You can do better.' He lit his pipe again, his eyes fixed on her. 'Names. Who on these grounds have loose tongues about my affairs?'
A soft blush had settled on the soft outer rounds of her high cheek bones. 'The slaves-' She stammered. Eyes downcast and fidgeting with her fingers she continued, a deer pinned to the ground by too strong a predator. 'In the kitchen I heard mijnheer's slave women talk about a one ear slave who arrived on the ship with Nommoa from Batavia. They heard it from the soldiers. I also overheard Catrijn and Angela.'
'A clever one, you.' He smiled. 'Do you know the punishment for loose lips and tongues?'
'No, mijnheer. My people say if you have a tongue you must speak while the daylight can still bear witness to the words that flow from your lips-'
'Stop your rambling. This is not your people. We have rules. Do you understand that?'
'Yes, mijnheer. Sorry mijnheer.'
'Now. Do you know the punishment for loose lips and tongues?'
'No mijnheer. My people do not have punishment for loose lips and tongues.'
'That is your next assignment. Go to that kitchen and ask each one of those slaves what the punishment is for loose lips and tongues.'
'And then, mijnheer?'
'And then, little Eva, you remember it for as as long as you draw breath. Now leave.'
'Why must I spy on Nommoa?'
He hit the surface of his desk. 'Why does not belong on your lips. Do you want to lose your tongue and those thick lips of yours today?'
'No, mijnheer. If I lose them Autshumao-'
'Stop with that Autshumao this and Autshumao that. Your order is Domineer. I must know what he is up to. Find out what. As soon as possible.'
'Mijnheer sent him to Batavia to take my place. Now I must spy on him? Autshumao-I thought Nommoa was back to spy on me.'
'Enough-'
'Nommoa is suspicious. Like you, mijnheer.'
'Eva, I swear-'
'It is easy to keep these eyes on him if he is here, as your interpreter. That is all I am trying to tell you mijnheer.' She folded her arms and studied his face that remained expressionless.
'Bring him to me.'
'About the new slave woman, mijnheer-'
'Be gone.'
The Commander walked to Sergeant Harwarden who lived within the grounds of the Fort. The stone-faced sergeant, sword sheathed to his side, paced the noisy floorboards of his Spartan quarters which doubled up as the heart of the young Colony's security headquarters.
'Prepare for another expedition. We must establish trade relations with tribes in the interior.'
'We need guides, trackers. Those who know the land and the people. And speak their language.'
'Jan-'
'We cannot afford a repeat-' Hawarden stopped, overcome by emotion.
'That Domineer will accompany you this time. He is one of their warriors. Knows the land and speaks the language.'
Harwarden nodded. 'Good choice.'
'Settled. You have a reputation to uphold. The last time you ventured inland you came back with a reputation.'
They laughed. 'Yes,' said Harwarden. 'Let it not be forgotten that I am the Dutchman who wrestled with a lion and lived to tell the story. Maybe I must remove his hide from your entrance hall and take it with me for good luck.' The two men were serious once again. 'We lost two good men on that expedition, Commander.'
'Let not past failures dampen our ardour, Jan. The Chochoqua is rich in cattle. And they are willing to trade for red copper. Directly.'
'On another note. I believe another convict arrived with the Malacca yesterday,' he said as soon as the Commander looked uncomfortable in his sparsely furnished room.
'Another female convict,' replied van Riebeeck. 'The second one. Is this damn place only good enough for convicts?'
'Lift your spirit, Commander. If this one is anything like Catrijn-'
'Catrijn remains a convict until Batavia instructs otherwise. Never forget that.'
'Of course. Of course.'
'The rules apply equally to all convicts. They do not enjoy the same status as the other slaves.'
'Of course. Of course. A convict is a convict. No more. No less.'
'The soldiers talk with the slaves. About Company matters. It is time to remind the soldiers how we deal with loose mouths.'
'Consider it done.'
'About our latest arrival.'
'The one-ear convict?'
The Commander curled his lower lip upward, bit it and straightened one of the muskets on the wall. 'Leave her irons in case she is a runner. Let her stew for the week. No night bucket. Only one ration of water and beans at night. Instruct-' He was deep in thought.
'Catrijn?'
The Commander shook his head. 'Not her. After one full week, instruct Maria to attend to her. Clean her up. Only then will you process her for service. The chief gardener needs more hands in the Company Gardens.'