The Covenant Part 59

Ignoring the interruption, Rhodes explained the dismal prospect that would await Frank if he married and lost his job, to which Maud asked, 'Why must he lose his job? If he does a sensible thing like marrying the woman of his choice?'

'Because no man can work as my personal a.s.sistant, and share the dreams I have, and cater to a woman, too.'

'Your dreams, Mr. Rhodes, are addled, and I'm taking Frank away from you before you turn him crazy, too.'

The threat was easier made than discharged, for when Frank was brought into the discussion, Rhodes pleaded for the young man's continued help, especially at this time of crisis: 'You must come with me to London. To help me face down the inquisitors.' And he made such a plaintive appeal, explaining the mora.s.s of legal problems he faced as a consequence of the rebellion, that Saltwood once more allowed himself to be entrapped by this man.

'Maud, I'll be gone only a short time. He needs me.'

I need you,' she replied. 'And if you go, don't count on my waiting for you forever.'

'Maud!' It was a cry she did not hear, for she had left the offices, and in her stead Frank had in his hands a sheaf of legal papers which he must study before sailing from Cape Town.

Maud's patience was to be severely tested, for not only did Rhodes keep his hold on Frank during this time, with its involved lawsuits and frenzied meetings, but he dragged him into another set of extensive negotiations in an attempt to strengthen his empire. He had exited from his troubles with more power and money than before; he had engaged in criminal acts against both the Boer republics and his own government, but had emerged almost unscathed. He did have to resign as prime minister of Cape Colony, but he retained his seat in Parliament permanently.

He turned once more to his grand design. The map of Africa must be painted red; Rhodesia must be extended in all directions. German infiltrations must be halted and Belgium watched. He had a thousand schemes, plus a special one which lay entwined with his heart: this he discussed with Saltwood, whom he considered, all things in balance, to have been the very finest of his eighteen or so young gentlemen.

'What do you think of it?' he asked one morning during their second trip to London as he shoved at Frank a rumpled paper covered with ink scratches. It was the rough outline of a new last will and testament seventh in lineexplaining his involved plan for a perpetual trust. It would receive millions of pounds, to be doled out to bright young men in the British colonies and America to enable them to attend Oxford and there imbibe the instruction which would encourage them to go forth and make the world British.

Mr. Rhodes proposed four large criteria for identifying the perfect man: scholastic achievement; success in manly sports; exhibition of moral force and leaders.h.i.+p; and what he called 'qualities of manhood,' which included truth, courage, devotion to duty, sympathy for the weak, kindliness, unselfishness and fellows.h.i.+p. Young men who exhibited these qualities were to be handsomely endowed with scholars.h.i.+p funds and given every advantage in gaining a start in life.

'Well?' Rhodes asked impatiently.

'You establish very high standards, sir.'

'You met them. All my young gentlemen at Kimberley met them.'

When this reference was added, Frank understood what Mr. Rhodes hoped to accomplish with his largesse: he wanted an endless supply of the young men who had served him so wellNeville, Richard, Edgar, Elmhirst, Gordon, Mountjoy, Johnny, and so on, through eternity, men with first names only, who did not bother with girls but who stood tall and tended the duties of empire. The list of attributes Mr. Rhodes had drawn up were those best calculated to produce just such men, and there would always be both a need and a place for them.

But even as Frank studied this description of himself he had to be amused by one incongruous aspect. 'What's funny?' Rhodes asked testily.

'Your criteria,' Frank said with a chuckle he could not repress. Tapping the paper, he said, 'Mr. Rhodes, you wouldn't qualify on a single item. You hate sports and ridicule us when we engage in them. You took nearly a decade to win your degree. You had little sympathy for the Matabele, until they were thrashed. And as for truth, I've heard you give quite wrong explanations of your acts. Courage you may have, but you weren't in the front line when your revolution took place. And d.a.m.nit all, you showed no kindliness to Maud. Not only would you fail to win one of your scholars.h.i.+ps, you wouldn't even be considered.'

Laughing heartily, Rhodes reached for his will, waved it under Frank's nose and said, 'These criteria are not meant to identify men like me. We who move the world are not pleasant people, but we need pleasant, inoffensive people to help us. These scholars.h.i.+ps will uncover such people.' When Frank started to speak, Rhodes interrupted: 'Stay with me, most precious of my young gentlemen, and we shall attain the dreams. You're to administer the scholars.h.i.+ps, you know.' As he started to leave the room he turned back to say, 'You're to find me an endless supply of decent chaps just like yourself.' Handing the will back to Frank, he said, 'Think about it.'

For some time Frank sat staring at the floor, antic.i.p.ating the great times he could have in Oxford, administering the scholars.h.i.+ps, but this opportunity vanished when two visitors to his hotel room changed everything.

The first was his cousin, Sir Victor Saltwood, M.P. for Salisbury. He was brief and harsh: 'You've behaved like a d.a.m.ned fool, Frank. I sent you one of the finest young women this world could produce, and what in h.e.l.l do you do but leave her and go off to some pile of rubble in what they call Rhodesia. And when you come back you get yourself nearly hanged. Your life was saved by that girl, and yet you abandoned her.'

'Mr. Rhodes needed me. You've seen what happened in London.'

'Needed you, yes, but dictate to you how your life should be lived? If you had any gumption, you'd tell him to go to h.e.l.l, get aboard the next s.h.i.+p, and marry Maud Turner.'

'I'm afraid I've lost her, Victor. I've hardly seen her these past years.'

'You haven't at all. She understands the pressure you were under. After you left her the first time she got herself involved with schools in the farm districts. She's done a splendid job. Her father tells me she's visited your folks at De Kraal, loves them, and is prepared to wait till you come to your senses. But she's only human, Frank, and others want to marry her. She writes me that she's giving you two months.'

'She is!' The world seemed to spin back from the abyss of loneliness which Frank had envisioned for himself. He had supposed that Maud was lost and his life was to be an endless extension of the present, but now his cousin was saying that he had been in communication . . .

'I want to send a cable,' he cried impulsively, and on the back of Mr. Rhodes' proposed will he scribbled: Maud. Sailing home immediately. Marry me the day I arrive, please, please, and save my life. Maud. Sailing home immediately. Marry me the day I arrive, please, please, and save my life.

He was signing it when Mr. Rhodes returned to the room to fetch his will, but before he could reach for it, Frank thrust it at him, his words face up, and said, 'Sir, I think you should be the first to know.'

Displaying no emotion, the great financier read the proposed cable, smiled, and said to Sir Victor, 'Stated in plain language.' He summoned a bellhop and asked him to bring the manager of the hotel. When that gentleman arrived, Rhodes said, 'See that this telegram is filed instanter. And book us two staterooms on the Scot Scot sailing on Friday.' sailing on Friday.'

'No, sir,' Frank said with a firmness that pleased his cousin. 'Idon't want you arguing with me all the way to Cape Town. My mind's quite made up, you know.'

'Of course it is, and properly so. I wish to be present at the wedding.' Turning to Sir Victor, he said, 'The best, I think. This boy was the best of the lot.'

'Was?' Sir Victor repeated.

'Yes. He won't be working with me any more. I had plans for him, but times change, plans change.' And he accompanied Sir Victor from the room, a bulky, tired man, only forty-six years old, whose weakened heart could not keep pace with his dreams.

Frank's second visitor was the managing director of the Union Line, which operated the mail s.h.i.+ps to South Africa. It seemed strange that a man of such high position would be delivering the tickets, even to such a frequent customer as Mr. Rhodes, and Frank said so: 'I know he travels back and forth at least once a year, but this is most considerate of you. I shall tell him.'

'No! No!' the director said in real panic. 'My meeting with you is highly confidential.'

'What is it?' Frank asked.

'The princess. The Polish princess.'

'Who?'

'A lady of high rank. Berlin, Warsaw, St. Petersburg.'

'What's she got to do with Mr. Rhodes?'

'Ah, that's what we don't know.' Nervously he began to unfold an incredible yarn: 'I don't know whether it's a hoax or what. I don't know whether Mr. Rhodes is in some kind of danger or not. In fact, I don't know what I know.'

'Why not tell me what you think you know.'

'The Princess Radziwilla real princess bearing a distinguished Polish namefor some time she's been visiting us to talk about a shadowy trip to Cape Town. Says she has interests there. It develops that her interest is Mr. Rhodes. She never buys a ticket. She's interested only in when Mr. Rhodes is sailing.'

'That seems harmless.'

'Yes, but yesterday, within fifteen minutes of your ordering the two tickets to Cape Town . . .'

'He did the ordering. Did it himself.'

'Even more suspicious. Someone in this hotel, or someone in our offices someone notified Princess Radziwill. And as I said, within fifteen minutes she was in my office, wanting to know which stateroom he had and demanding the one next to it.'

'Now, that does pose problems,' Frank conceded. 'Who is this woman? Young? Adventurous?'

'Not at all. She is the true Princess Radziwill. Well vetted in the Al-manaca de Gotha. Not young at all. In her forties maybe, fifties, and looks it. May have been a great beauty once, but too much Polish and Russian cooking. Dark hair, no streaks of gray. Speaks acceptable English, but also French, German and, of course, Polish and Russian.'

'Has she any funds?'

'There's my problem, Mr. Saltwood. I have absolutely nothing to go on, but from years of selling tickets for boat pa.s.sages, I'd say the Princess Radziwill conforms in every detail to the typical woman pa.s.senger who is going to give us trouble. Why do I say this? I don't really know. But that woman has financial problems.'

'Is there any chance that I might see her before we sail? Not talk to her, you understand. Just see her. Because we don't want a scandal, do we?'

The managing director thought that he might summon her to the office at three, to confirm her pa.s.sage, or something like that, and if Frank happened to chance by to pick up his his tickets . . . 'You wouldn't approach my door, you understand. Just the outer office, like any ordinary pa.s.senger. You could see her as she exits.' tickets . . . 'You wouldn't approach my door, you understand. Just the outer office, like any ordinary pa.s.senger. You could see her as she exits.'

It was arranged, and from a shop across the street from the Union Line offices Frank watched a shortish, attractive, dark-haired woman step out of a cab and walk in to confirm her stateroom. Casually he crossed the street, moved to a counter, and engaged the young male clerk in conversation about a possible pa.s.sage to Australia. From where he stood, he commanded a fine view of the manager's office and had a good chance to study the Princess Radziwill of Poland.

She seemed gracious, well groomed, interested in the details of her forthcoming voyage. She talked with animation, and whenever he caught sight of her face, it seemed quite pleasant. If she was an agent in some conspiracy against his employer, she masked it well.

She rose rather sooner than he expected, walked briskly from the inner office, spotted Frank immediately, and walked straight up to him. 'Frank Saltwood,' she said without hesitation. 'I am Princess Radziwill. And you are the cousin of my good friend Sir Victor. Liberal party. Salisbury. I believe we're to share the Scot Scot together, this Friday. How very congenial.' With a slight bow she pa.s.sed on. together, this Friday. How very congenial.' With a slight bow she pa.s.sed on.

Both the steams.h.i.+p management and young Saltwood deemed it best to inform Mr. Rhodes of this strange development, and he guffawed at their apprehensions. 'I like grandes dames grandes dames like that. I talk to them roughly, introducing more profanity with each turn of the conversation. After a while they leave me alone.' like that. I talk to them roughly, introducing more profanity with each turn of the conversation. After a while they leave me alone.'

Frank had a premonition that this cavalier treatment might not succeed with royalty as determined as the Princess Radziwill, and he boarded the Union Line s.h.i.+p with trepidation, which was justified a few hours later at the evening meal. He cautioned Mr. Rhodes: 'We'll go in late, after she's chosen her table,' and they did so, but as they entered the salon Frank caught a glimpse of a lady in black waiting in the shadows, and no sooner had Mr. Rhodes taken his table, one with spare chairs so that he might entertain business acquaintances during the long voyage, than Princess Radziwill swept into the room, crying in a soft, ladylike voice, 'Oh, dear! Where shall I sit?'

Ignoring the chief steward, who hurried up to a.s.sist her, she let her hand fall upon one of the chairs at Rhodes' table and asked gently, 'Does this happen to be vacant?'

Frank started to say brusquely, 'It's taken, ma'am,' but before he could complete the sentence Mr. Rhodes said gallantly, but with obvious reluctance, 'It seems to be free, madam,' at which she seated herself with great firmness, indicating that this would be her place for the duration of the voyage.

She was an enchanting woman, much younger in spirit than her years, informed on everything and willing to deliver final judgments on politicians, writers, musicians and the state of the world. When Mr. Rhodes attempted to stifle her with his routine profanity, she responded with animated discussions of her digestive system, her bowel movements and episodes in her s.e.x life. Very quickly Mr. Rhodes retreated to more casual conversation.

From the first she demonstrated an intense dislike of Frank Salt-wood, a.s.sessing him accurately as a bar to whatever designs she might have on Mr. Rhodes. She scorned any statement he made, ridiculed his Oxford insularity and lampooned his general deportment. Specifically she wanted to know why he wasn't married, and when he tried to counter with questions about her own status, she deflated him with a forthright statement: 'I am the daughter of a great Polish n.o.bleman, but my father and I have always considered ourselves Russians first, Poles second. I am married to a Radziwill, one of the proudest Polish names, but he has treated me abominably, and I am soon to be divorced from him. I am forty-one years old.'

She intimated that she was also a famous auth.o.r.ess: 'Five well-regarded books.'

When he made inquiries among the other pa.s.sengers, he found that she was indeed a distinguished writer on political subjects and that she knew everyone in European society. Sensing that he doubted her statement about her writing, she appeared one noontime in the promenade cafe with two of her books, solid affairs dealing with European court life and its political intrigues. When she saw that Frank and, indirectly, Mr. Rhodes were sufficiently impressed, she said casually, 'You know, of course, that my aunt, Evelina Rzewuska, was the wife and financial salvation of Honore de Balzac'

'Who was he?' asked a young man from Kimberley who had recently been invited to join the Rhodes circle.

'Oh, my G.o.d!' she screamed so loudly that people at other tables turned to look. This pleased her, and she appealed to them: 'This young fool asks me who Honore de Balzac was. It's like asking an Englishman who William Shakespeare was.' And with this she launched upon a recitation, with wild gestures, of the entire sonnet: 'When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past . . .'

When she was halfway through, Frank thought: What can this creature be up to? At the closing couplet he found out, for with a sudden drop in her voice, she gazed longingly at Mr. Rhodes and whispered: 'But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.'

After a few demonstrations like this, Frank was so deflated that she could speak right past him when she wished to address Mr. Rhodes. But if she humbled the younger man, she exalted the older, praising him extravagantly and placing herself in his way whenever she moved on deck. When he sat down on a deck chair, he found that she had acquired the one next to it, and if he sought to rest because of his increasing heart unease, there she was, prepared to argue politics with him.

'What does that woman want with me?' Rhodes asked Frank in some dismay at the end of the fifth day.

'I think she wants to marry you, sir.'

'She's already married. Said so herself.'

'But she's getting a divorce. Said so herself.' Rhodes caught the mockery in his young friend's voice and burst into laughter. 'You have only one commission, Frank. Protect me from that woman.'

Saltwood's first stratagem backfired: 'We'll take our meals in your cabin. Let her have the table.' But before the first meal ended, the princess burst into the cabin, eyes aflutter, to a.s.sure herself that 'dear Mr. Rhodes is not suffering.' Deftly she maneuvered Frank out of the stateroom, fluffed up the pillows, and sat close beside Mr. Rhodes to help him eat his meal.

'Frank!' came the anguished cry. 'You said you'd bring the papers.' Grabbing anything at hand, Saltwood hurried back into the room, where the beleaguered man said, 'Sit here beside me,' and the princess was edged away.

The next afternoon, in their deck chairs, she chided Mr. Rhodes for having been so ungallant, and as she rose to spread a blanket for him she was seized with a mild fainting spell, which threw her gently into his arms.

'Frank!' he bellowed, and when Saltwood hurried up, he found his master embracing the inert body of the Polish princess.

During the entire voyage this charade continued, for no matter what maneuver the two men devised, the princess knew how to outsmart them, and one evening when persons at the bar said in her hearing, 'I do believe Mr. Rhodes, the woman hater, is having an affair with the princess,' she smiled.

It was when the Scot Scot was one day out of Cape Town that Cecil Rhodes made the second great mistake of his life. In the presence of Frank Saltwood and two guests at his table he said casually to these business friends, 'When we reach the Cape you must visit me at Groote Schuur.' was one day out of Cape Town that Cecil Rhodes made the second great mistake of his life. In the presence of Frank Saltwood and two guests at his table he said casually to these business friends, 'When we reach the Cape you must visit me at Groote Schuur.'

'I shall be delighted!' the princess said.

He had scarcely unpacked his bags when a telegram arrived from the Mount Nelson Hotel announcing that the princess would be coming to dinner that night. At the meal, a party for the colony's political leaders, she a.s.signed herself the seat as mistress of the establishment, and before long, cryptic notices began appearing in the Cape Town newspapers, sent to them anonymously in a woman's handwriting: The mighty Colossus whose armor has blunted all the arrows of Cupid seems to have been wounded by that sly huntsman, and we understand that wedding bells may soon be sounding, but who the fair partner is to be we cannot at this time divulge except to say that she is a t.i.tled dignitary much accustomed to the royal circles of Berlin, Warsaw and St. Petersburg.

Who was this cyclonic woman who had risked everything on a boat trip to South Africa in pursuit of the world's richest bachelor? Princess Radziwill was everything she claimed to be, and one thing more. She was the daughter of one of Poland's n.o.blest families; her aunt had indeed been the salvation of Honore de Balzac; she had written widely popular books; and she was divorcing her husband, a process that would require many years. But the salient fact was that she was almost penniless.

At forty-one, her hectic behavior had caused her expulsion from the courts of Europe, and several nations had denied her reentry. A waspish gossip, she had frittered away a dazzling life until members of her two families, who did have great wealth, wished to see her no more. With her pen she might have made herself a good life with respectable income, but this talent, too, she abused, and her publishers were weary of her broken promises and unfulfilled contracts. Like her talents, her beauty had begun to fade, and she sensed that she had only a few more good years, which she must use to advantage.

It was remarkable that at the nadir of her career she should have devised a plan so bold, with risks so tremendous, but one day as she was sitting in her mean Paris lodgings this splendid thought had come to her: Why not marry Cecil Rhodes? Unfree to marry because of her dragging divorce, without funds, with fewer good dresses than ever before in her life, she had nevertheless launched her a.s.sault. Now, at Groote Schurr, Rhodes' fine Cape Dutch mansion that would become the equivalent of South Africa's White House, she behaved like a first lady and made it clear that she intended a.s.sisting Mr. Rhodes in governing the nation.

'I need help,' the great man moaned one afternoon. 'Beg Frank Salt-wood to come back.'

In the hectic days when Princess Radziwill was intent on capturing Groote Schurr, Frank was having the tenderest experience of his life. Upon disembarking from Scot Scot and bidding Cecil Rhodes farewell for what he a.s.sumed was the last time, since he had been dismissed, he caught a cab and hurried to the Mount Nelson Hotel, where Maud Turner had come to greet him. Ascertaining from the desk clerk where her room was located, he hurried through the stately lobby, bounded up a flight of oaken stairs, and thumped loudly at her door. Quickly it was opened and quickly he was down on his knees for anyone in the hallway to see: 'Maud, can you forgive me?' and bidding Cecil Rhodes farewell for what he a.s.sumed was the last time, since he had been dismissed, he caught a cab and hurried to the Mount Nelson Hotel, where Maud Turner had come to greet him. Ascertaining from the desk clerk where her room was located, he hurried through the stately lobby, bounded up a flight of oaken stairs, and thumped loudly at her door. Quickly it was opened and quickly he was down on his knees for anyone in the hallway to see: 'Maud, can you forgive me?'

'Get up, you stupid boy.'

'Then you'll have me?'

'Not if you act like this.' And with a swift reach of her hand she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the room, then kicked the door shut with her heel. 'I am so glad we found each other again,' she said, and she maneuvered Frank to the bed, telling him, when the impa.s.sioned interlude was over, 'Now, d.a.m.nit, you've got to marry me.'

They took the train up through the Karroo, then south to a small siding convenient to De Kraal. It consisted of an iron shed and stock ramp marked by a deeply carved sign erected by Frank's father: Hilary Hilary. On the long journey Maud had discussed seriously the manner in which they should lead their lives: 'Forget Mr. Rhodes completely. We'll have no more to do with him. What kind of work can you do, Frank?'

'I know the business world. Bankers, diamonds, Parliament.'

'Could you be a manager of sorts?'

'I think so. But where shall we establish our headquarters?'

She had been thinking about this for over two years, and every selfish desire urged her to say Cape Town, for she considered this the fairest city she had ever seen, a place incomparably lovely, with its ocean, its mountain, its deep indented bays, its gorgeous wealth of flowers. This was a city she could love, but her business sense warned her that South African industry was bound to center in the north, near the diamonds and the gold, and it was there that a young man could make his way: 'I think we should work in Johannesburg.'

'What a grubby place. Have you ever seen it?'

'Grubby now, but we must think of the future. It's got to be Johannesburg.'

'But couldn't we . . .' He hesitated, rubbed his nose, and asked tentatively, 'Couldn't we . . . maybe . . . maintain an office also in Cape Town?'

As if the idea had never occurred to her, she pondered it, tickled him under the chin with her fingernail, and said, 'Frank, I think that's a capital idea.'

In the Cape cart sent from De Kraal to meet them at the Hilary siding they devised a rough pattern for their future: a secure farm investment in the countryside; a business office in Johannesburg to watch over banking, insurance, trading and stocks, which Boers ignored because they had little interest in intricate financial matters; a political footing in Cape Town to protect one's holdings; and a permanent link with 'home,' a spot back in England crammed with memories.

'We must never forget our families in Salisbury,' Maud said.

'Naturally. What do you have in mind?'