Виктория Холт - Snare of Serpents

“But what actually did you see?”

“It was the figure of a man cut out of wood … and in his hands he was holding …” She shivered and buried her face in her hands.

“What was he carrying, Myra? You must tell me.”

“He was carrying a woman. Holding her up. Just as though he were going to throw her down the stairs.”

“Oh no,” I murmured.

She looked at me fearfully. “It was awful. Because she … Margarete had fallen down the stairs … I just ran away … screaming. I couldn’t help it. It was because … it seemed to mean something. Roger was there. He tried to comfort me. It was some time before I could tell him what I had seen. He went there then … I followed him. I was afraid that the figures might not be there and it would seem that I had imagined the whole thing.”

“And were they there?”

“Yes … he saw them.”

“What … did he do?”

“He picked it up and broke it. He was so angry because it had upset me so much. He held it in his hand, just looking at it for a moment. Then he put it back, but it wouldn’t stand up. He laid it on the top of the staircase; then he put his arm round me and took me back to my bedroom. He said some person was playing silly tricks and he was going to find out who … and whoever it was would no longer be a member of his household.”

“And he did not find out?”

She shook her head. “Oh, he is so kind to me, Diana. He made me lie down. He said it was all nonsense … nothing to worry about. It was just silly and the only reason why he was so angry was because it had upset me.”

“Who, do you think, would do such a thing?”

“We don’t know. Roger tried to find out. He summoned all the servants to the library and he asked the one who had done it to own up. Who was it who had thought it was amusing to put figures in the Model House? That house was not to be touched by any of them … except those who were to dust it under the supervision of Mrs. Prost.”

“Did anyone own up?”

“No one. But Roger is going to find out. He is determined to.”

“Myra, why should anyone do such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“They would have to go to the trouble of carving the figures in the first place and getting up there …”

“I think it was someone trying to frighten me.”

“With little figures like that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me what’s in your mind, Myra. Why are you so frightened?”

“It’s because of that staircase. I think someone is saying that Margarete did not fall down the stairs because she had been drinking too much … I think they are saying it was not an accident.”

“And you wonder whether …”

“I sometimes feel the figures in the Model House are meant to be a warning …”

“Oh, Myra!”

“I’m afraid to go near that staircase. But there is a sort of compulsion to go there. It is as though someone … is luring me there.”

“Someone?”

“It sounds silly, but strange things do happen. Roger is a very attractive man, isn’t he, and I … well, I’m rather insignificant. It is rather miraculous that a man such as he is should want to marry me.”

“He did marry you, Myra. He must have wanted to.”

“I thought that Margarete might be a little … jealous.”

“But she’s dead!”

“They say that sometimes the dead return. And we are in the same house. Just imagine! She was happy here with him. She had never been happy like that before.”

“Paul says they were a very happy family when his father was alive.”

“But he wouldn’t understand the sort of love she had for Roger. In this house I can believe the past lives on, and I think that she is there waiting to separate us … to lure me to my death …”

“Really, Myra, that’s nonsense.”

“I know. But I am just telling you my feelings.”

“Well, she couldn’t make carvings and put them in the Model House to frighten you, could she? And how is that going to lure you to fall down the stairs?”

“I go there sometimes. I stand at the top and think of her plunging down.”

“Look here, Myra, you’re not yourself. These attacks have been weakening you. They’ve given you odd dreams and fancies … hallucinations perhaps. You’ve got to get back to normal. No ghost can make you do what you don’t want to, nor can it put figures in certain places. Promise me you won’t go wandering round this part of the house alone.”

“I promise,” she said.

I was very worried about her. I talked of it to Lilias. It was a change from the perpetual topic of the war, but, to me, it was almost as alarming.

“She must be losing her mind,” said Lilias in her practical way. “They used to say in the village that Myra was a little simple.”

“She’s not simple … just nervous. She has never been confident in herself. That’s quite different.”

“You don’t think she is secretly drinking, do you?”

“I did wonder that. It could give her fancies.”

“It might well. It looks to me as though that’s the answer.”

“But there is no doubt that the figures were there. Roger saw them.”

“I must admit this is an odd business.”

“You see, first there was a figure lying at the bottom of the staircase, and now these more intricate ones of a man holding a woman and preparing to throw her down.”

“I can only suggest one thing.”

I nodded.

“That he pushed her down the stairs.”

“Or someone did.”

“Well, she did have that diamond which was worth a fortune. And he had married her rather promptly. Someone may have a grudge against him.”

“I wonder who?”

“Well, there are more important things to occupy us at the moment. I was wondering how long we can go on like this. They are all around us. Oh yes, we certainly have other things to think about than little carved figures.”

THE NEWS which filtered in to us continued to be disquieting. The quick and easy victory expected by the British was not forthcoming.

There was an old music hall song which I remembered from my youth and at the start of the conflict it had been revived again. I had heard people singing it in Kimberley when there was talk of war.

We don’t want to fight

But by Jingo if we do

We’ve got the men, we’ve got the ships

We’ve got the money, too.

Somehow now it had a hollow ring. The stark realities of war were different from the dreams of glory.

Depression was descending upon us. The war had started in October and December had come; so far there had been no news of any success. Rather it had been the other way.

I sensed an air of triumph among the Boers in Kimberley.

We did not communicate with them; there was suspicion between us, for how did we know who among us were not spies?

Those were difficult weeks. Several people were leaving the towns—young men who wanted to go and fight.

One day when I went to Riebeeck House I saw Njuba in the gardens.

I said to him: “Is anything wrong?” for there was a look of abject misery on his face.

“My boy … he gone,” he said.

“Umgala!” I cried. “Where has he gone?”

“I do not know, Missee. He just gone. He not home all night.”

“He can’t have gone far. What could a boy like Umgala want to leave home for?”

“He good boy. No speak … no hear … but good boy.”

“I know,” I said. “How long has he been gone?”

“Only one night … one day.”

“Has anyone tried to find him?”

“I ask Massa. He say we try find. But many go now … say Massa. Perhaps Umgala, too.”

“I am sure he will come back, Njuba.”

“I know …” He tapped his chest. “I feel here, Missee. He gone. He no come back.”

I left the poor man shaking his head.

When I saw Paul he was very upset. He said: “Umgala’s run away.”

“His father told me he’d gone.”

“Where could he go to? He can’t speak. Besides, who would he fight for? Whose side would he be on?”

“He’s a strange boy, Paul. He may have had some reason for going.”

“I know him. He didn’t want to run away.”

“Well, it seems he has. There are lots of people slipping out of this town, Paul. We live in strange times.”

“I wish they’d stop this silly old war.”

“I am sure most people feel the same,” I said.

It was the next day when Roger talked to me. I was coming to the house to see Myra when he intercepted me in the garden.

“I wanted to talk to you, D-Diana,” he said. “Things’re coming to a climax. The Boers are doing well. They’ll be taking over the town soon.”

“Surely it can’t go on? There must be change soon.”

“In time perhaps … but not yet. I wanted to tell you that I am leaving tonight.”

“Leaving? For where?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“You mean … some secret mission … ?”

“We need more reinforcements. The Boer commandos are getting close. We’ve got to get help. I’m going to see what can be done.”

“So … you leave tonight?”

He nodded. “I want you to look after Myra. I’m so worried about her. She is really in a nervous state.”

“I know.”

“I wonder if you would mind staying with her some nights. You know … when she is not so well. With things as they are …”

“Of course, I will do what I can.”

“I’ve spoken to the doctor. He thinks it’s largely in the mind. She’s finding it difficult to adjust. He’s given her that tonic.”

“It doesn’t seem to be doing her much good.”

“Dr. Middleburg said it would take time. This … er … upheaval has been too much for her.”

“You mean … marriage?”

He smiled at me. “Oh no. I didn’t mean that. God knows, I’ve done my best to make her happy. It’s the strange country … leaving home … and just as we were settling down, all this blows up. Will you persuade her to go on with the tonic? I think she hasn’t been taking it regularly and that is why it hasn’t been as effective as we hoped. Would you see that she takes it as prescribed?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. I am sure this will soon be over, and we can get back to normal.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Before long we shall have them on their knees. It’s inevitable. It’s just at first that there are difficulties to overcome. The Boers are a stubborn race; and they think they have God on their side.”

“Don’t they all think that?”

“I suppose so, but there is a fervency about these commandos.”

“Perhaps that is because it is their home and this is where they live. They don’t want anyone to take it from them.”

“As they took it from others?”

“Oh yes, of course. Well, that was a long time ago and the place where people have lived for generations means something special to them. To us it is a gold mine … a country worthy of development … another jewel in the Crown of Empire.”

“You are very eloquent, but we all agree on one thing: we want this war over so that we can return to our normal way of life. Please … look after Myra for me.”

“I will do everything in my power.”

“Thank you. Now I can feel more at peace.”

He left Kimberley that night, and two days later we were a town under siege.

CHAOS REIGNED for the next few days. Rumours flew round the town. The Boer commandos were a mile away and advancing on us. They had decided not to take Kimberley and were surrounding the place. We did not know what to believe.

People came out into the streets and stood in little groups huddled together … watchful, fearful. They went into their houses … gathering their families together. Then the streets were deserted. It changed from hour to hour, and nobody knew what was really happening.

Then the refugees from the outlying districts came straggling into the town … exhausted … some needing medical attention as they stumbled in with more tales to tell. Soldiers from the garrison patrolled the streets. Everyone was alert for the approach of the Boers.

The town was well defended, said some.

It would never stand up to an onslaught, said others.

Under the cover of darkness several men who had managed to break through the commando forces arrived. Some of them were wounded and the hospitals were full and all the doctors of the town were working there.

Life had changed completely.