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<1st attachment, "King Jakob.txt" begin>

KING JAKOB (Part 1)


By KATZMAREK(C)


----------------------------------------------------------------


Historical Note.


The Russo-Japanese war of 1904/5 ended with the complete
humiliation of the Russian armed forces. At Mukden, the Japanese
army crushed the larger Russian army of General Kuropatkin. At
sea, three forths of the Russian Navy was sunk or captured in a
series of naval engagements culminating in the battle of
Tsushima.


The second Pacific Squadron of the Russian Navy was constituted
from the Baltic Fleet to support the squadron under seige at
Port Arthur, Manchuria. It performed a first by being the first
time a coal-powered fleet had sailed around the world without
any bases to provision. It was it's misfortune to arrive too
late, Port Arthur was captured and the ships there sunk or
seized. The Japanese under Admiral Tojo wiped the Russians Navy
from the seas, the final chapter to Russian ambitions in China.


This story concerns a deserter, Jakob Herzberg, who found life
unbearable as a landsman aboard the battleship Borodino. Set in
the background of true historical events, this a tale of 'rags
to riches,' Jakob's search for the easy life, full of dusky
South Seas maidens and sandy beaches.


----------------------------------------------------------------


This work is fiction. It remains the property of the author and
may not be used for profit without the author's express
permission in writing. It contains sex, so if this offends etc...


----------------------------------------------------------------
Part 1


The knot in Jakob Herzberg's stomach didn't unravel till long
after the sulferous black smoke finally drifted out to sea. Even
then, the stench lingered on in the hot tropical air all
afternoon. The fleet, however, had gone.


He tried to imagine what Nossi Be' was like before the Russians
came. Sleepy, stifling and putrid, full of exotic birds and
animals, bored Frenchmen, listless Blacks and sweating Malay
rubber workers. Decaying, stuccoed public buildings grotesquely
out of place, quarreled with native shacks and rowdy markets.
All the time the tropical jungle threatened to invade, a dark
impenetrable green force of nature, cramping the string of
buildings to the water's edge.


The Hamburg Amerika colliers clustered by the breakwater
waiting to flee to sea once they'd been provisioned. A
Messagerie Maritimes' Steamer was lowering crates onto a lighter
in the stream. Too late, Jakob suspected, for the commercial
boom afforded by the Russian Navy. In the town proper, the
entrepreneurs were counting their cash. This suffocating rubber
port on the North coast of Madagascar had never had such a
windfall.


Earlier that morning, Jakob had watched the warships lumber
grumbling out into the Indian Ocean for their date with Admiral
Tojo's Japanese. Long lost was the sanguin optimism that
farewelled the fleet when it sailed out into the Baltic. The
Suvurov, bedecked with bunting and signal flags. The Orel, it's
engines banging and clanking from the sabotage recently done to
it's bearings. The Alexander the Third, brimming with
aristocrats and crammed full of French champagne.


Jakob Herzberg, gunner's mate and son of a shoemaker, had
volunteered. His Father had been proud, his Mother had knitted
him a warm jersey and balaclava. What could be more pariotic
than to answer the Tsar's call for duty to Empire? In these
times it was important for Jews to prove their loyalty. Some
said you couldn't be Russian and Jewish. Jakob had been
determined to prove them wrong.


But the voyage around the world had been a miserable
experience. His ship, the Borodino, was rife with anti-semitism.
The port six inch battery's Captain was a viscious, small-
minded, martinet of a man. He seemed to have dedicated his life
to to making Jakob's life as unbearable as possible. Sometime
off the West coast of Africa he'd made up his mind to jump ship.


It had been so easy. In the back streets of Nossi Be' one of
the Alexander's Boyar officers, so drunk he couldn't stand,
demanded Jakob point him back to the liberty boat. Spittal caked
his long black beard, his unfocussed eyes ran with tears. He
mumbled about some woman called Anitav. He said he'd betrayed
her and must send her a telegram.


"You forgive?" he begged, "not worthy... such a flower... take
me to her... I must, I order you, sailor..."


His ramblings had stopped when Jakob rammed his head into the
bricks at the back of the Customs building. Jakob released the
burden and watched the white-uniformed figure slump to the
ground like a bag of coal. 


The man had been loaded with roubles and colonial francs.
Stitched into his jacket was another hoard of gold Faberge eggs.
Jakob's last scruples disappeared at this unbelievable wealth.
With this he could make himself a kingdom. Grinning, he stood
over the figure on the ground.


"At least now you'll float!" he said aloud before running off
into the jungle.


Deserters from the second Russian Pacific squadron of Admiral
Rhozdventsky inevitably fetched themselves up in the dozens of
improvised whore houses or were found dead drunk in a back
alley. Marines combed the town before the fleet's departure and
loaded the unconscious onto carts. Occasionally, someone would
run and be shot down like a dog. Justice was swift and the
penalties severe for leaving the colours in time of war.


If Jakob had spared a thought towards the consequences, well,
life had become so desperate that he was willing to weather the
risk. He concealed himself in the jungle until he saw the
billowing smoke drift inshore over the Port. He found a hideout
near the point where he was able to view the departing ships. It
filled him with some misgivings, but the jangling in his pocket
told him he'd made a good choice this day.


----------------------------------------------------------------


French law barely functioned in Nossi Be'. Administration was
based at Diego Suarez around the coast and it was to there the
Officials scuttled when they'd performed their basic functions.
The humidity, malaria and tropical languor bled the vitality out
of everyone. Any hard work was foisted on the Malay and Chinese
rubber workers, it was the way of things. The natives maintained
a brooding indifference, waiting perhaps, for the time when the
foreigners will all go home.


Jakob watched the French steamer in the roads for a while. He
wondered where its next Port of call would be. Indo-China
perhaps or Tahiti? Passage, however, would be full of
complications. Passport and papers, an identity? Money moves
mountains, maybe, but not the fussy French Company Officials.


A Russian honourary consul resided in Diego Suarez. Jakob had
seen him when he called on the Admiral. He was a reedy, weasel
of a man, bespectacled, and Jakob figured, meticulous in his
duties. He could not expect any help there.


He ventured into a bar. Beneath a cloud of pipe smoke a knot of
German colliermen quaffed Brew 33 by the schooner-full. Spotting
a fellow European, a burly stoker beckoned Jakob over to quench
his thirst.


"Ruskie?" he ask straightaway.


Jakob nodded, wary.


"Don't blame you," he said in English, "the Japs will slaughter
the Ivan fleet. Top heavy and wallowing even in a calm sea. You
Russians can't shoot straight," he added grinning.


Jakob felt a twinge of professional affrontary at the remark.
Hadn't they been personally congratulated for their marksmanship
by none other than the Admiral?


"Gunner?" another German sailor asked, looking at the cross-
cannons on Jakob's sleeve.


"Linienshiff?" someone else asked in German.


Jakob nodded, "Borodino," he told them sullenly.


"Too French-looking," the first sailor muttered, shaking his
head, "the Japs have the right idea, British ships. They know
how to build them alright. Low, see?" he said, drawing his hand,
palm down, across in front of Jakob, "stable, good for shooting.
Your ships roll too much."


Jakob was growing uncomfortable with the conversation. He drew
the big stoker aside and asked him how he could get a new
identity and, most importantly, passage out of Madagascar.


"Your name?" the German asked quietly.


"Jakob Herzberg."


"Isak Weinstein. I think we can work something out," he winked,
"you got money?"


Jakob nodded.


"We are calling at Daressalam to load more coal for the Russian
fleet. I don't think, though, that they will be needing it. We
are always in need of more hands on board. Get out to the 'Adele
Dornbirner' and ask for Third Officer Stulpnagel. Give me 100
francs... 150, 50 for me and 100 for him. I will see to it that
he doesn't ask too many questions."


"Can I trust you?" Jakob asked, wary.


"You want to stay here?" the German replied.


Jakob passed over the money.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Life for Jakob Herzberg on the German collier was like a
holiday in the tropics compared to the Borodino. The crew
accepted him quickly as one of their own. Isak Weinstein was the
'de facto' leader of the lower deck. When he called someone
'friend,' that was good enough for the fifteen or so members of
the boiler crew.


Life on a collier was dirty and hard, the men the same. Service
in the Russian fleet had made Jakob lean and wirey. Standing his
place at the firedoor he quickly adapted to a stoker's life.


At Daressalam he bid farewell to his new friends. Friends that
had treated him much better than his fellow countrymen. He was
surprised to find that most of the lower deck in the German ship
were Jews. On Saturday they came together for the Sabbath, the
first time Jakob had done so since leaving Russia. It moved him
to tears.


Isak directed him to a 'friend' who would furnish him with a
new identity. It was thus as 'Count' Feodor Politovsky that
Jakob learnt of the virtual annihilation of the Russian
squadrons in some place called the Straits of Tsushima. Borodino
had blown up, he read, no known survivors. Suvurov had capsized,
Alexander had exploded her magazines, Oslabya had blown apart,
Orel surrendered, over 4000 dead. It scarcely seemed possible.
For days the dark gloom of guilt descended on Jakob that even
the Faberge eggs couldn't assuage.


He ordered a suit of the finest tropical material in the latest
style, combed through the mercantile news and sat brooding in
his room at Daressalam's finest Hotel, the Pallas. One morning
he resolved to take passage to the South Seas. Anywhere, he
thought, so long as it was as far away as Mother Earth allowed.


Jakob dreamed of Tahiti with it's wide, white beaches and half-
naked dusky beauties. Blue waters stretching as far as the eye
could see. He'd dreamed of it ever since he'd seen the French
steamer in Nossi Be'. The mercantile news reported the imminent
arrival of the North German Lloyd liner Thuringia 'en passage'
to German Samoa via the Caroline Islands. 'Close enough to
Tahiti,' he reasoned, 'that it scarcely mattered.'


He deposited the gold eggs with the German Colonial Bank and
obtained letters of credit to the amount of 50,000 marks. 'Count
Politovsky' bought himself a first class ticket aboard the
Thuringia and retreated back to the hotel to await the liner's
arrival.


He began his education on how to conduct himself as an
aristocrat by carefully observing his fellow diners at the
hotel. They clustered in animated, but polite, conversation
studiously ignoring the Black and Chinese servants that hovered
in attendance. He watched the servile bowing of the waiters, the
carriage of the worthies, the style and assumptions of wealth
and privilege. He watched, and he copied.


He bought himself a motor car, a Canstatt Daimler, because he'd
seen the German Governor with one. He taught himself to drive on
the red, rutted bush roads on the outskirts of town. Jakob
assembled all the acoutrements of a wealthy Russian aristocrat
and adopted an imperious manner. Thus equipped, he stepped onto
the big German liner and took up court in one of its finest
first-class suites.


He hired a Chinese servant called Yu. Yu, a boy of about 25,
spared no effort in pleasing and anticipating his master's
needs. Fetching himself a deckchair on the promenade deck, Jakob
watched the Indian Ocean wash past as he sailed into exile.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Apia is a wide, natural harbour. As the Thuringia steamed in
past the headlands, Jakob carefully observed the shipping at
anchor or moored at the jetty. He saw the low sleek shape of the
watchship, the gunboat 'Luchs', more yacht than naval craft. An
English tramp steamer, 'John Smith' lay anchored loading copra,
an anonymous name for an anonymous vessel. The Thuringia slid
past the large French Cruiser 'Duquesnes,' its six funnels
making it look like a floating woollen mill. A couple of yachts,
some island steamers, bum boats and native canoes made up the
rest of the traffic. Jakob instantly fell in love with the
place, its lazy tropical climate, beaches, palms and antipodean
sunlight.


Unlike Madagascar or East Africa, the native Samoans smiled,
not out of subservience, but because it was their nature to do
so. They had never learned the obsequeousness typically
displayed to the white settlers by the native peoples. The
chiefs and elders stood erect, fanning themselves and looked you
in the eye. He was to learn later that looking someone in the
eye was regarded as a sign of contempt by the Samoans. A fact
the Europeans rarely grasped.


The Germans were not popular with the Samoan people. The
natives were unwilling to work the coconut plantations so the
German owners were forced to import indentured Chinese
labourers. The Europeans made decisions and paid lip service to
the council of elders, a fact the Samoans resented bitterly. The
colonials' attempt at introducing work ethics and the cash
economy was treated with indifference by the Samoans. What need
had they of money when they'd all they needed around them? Food
and shelter could be had for free.


Jakob bought the fine colonial house of a bankrupt plantation
owner who wished to return to Germany. The white-walled house
came with a full compliment of Chinese servants. Yu immediately
assumed command. As the 'Count's' boy' he was now the senior
servant. Jakob smiled inwardly as he heard Yu exerting his
authority, barking orders and kicking the laggards. There was no
doubt who was in charge.


Jakob imagined he could purchase himself a bevy of dusky South
Seas maidens for his own pleasure. The girls here, though,
stubbornly resisted being bought. Clearly he had to search
further afield.


----------------------------------------------------------------


The Europeans, Germans mostly with some English missionaries, a
couple of Americans and a Frenchman or two, readily excepted the
Count as someone who was distinguished and, above all, wealthy.
Jakob, though, wasn't as wealthy as he made out. Already half
his fortune had gone into his lifestyle and, unless he found
something to do, his capital would soon be used up.


Coconut plantations didn't interest him, but trading did. So
far from the luxuries of Europe, there was a thirst for the
finer things in life. Jakob realised these were not catered for,
so he opened a store. By the year's end, his 'Pacific Trading
Company' was generating a reasonable income. By the autumn of
1906 the 'Count' had become well-respected indeed.


That year the Russian navy's cruiser 'Zhemchug' paid a courtesy
call to Apia. The 'Count's' identity stood the test when Jakob
hosted a dinner for the Officers. Not long after the ship's
departure, Jakob recieved a Telegram appointing him 'Charge
d'affairs' for the Russian government to the German colony of
Samoa. It was mostly an honourary title as Russia had little to
do with the island. The fact that 'Count Politovsky' didn't
exist didn't seem to bother the Government in St Petersburg. It
was merely the Navy's way of thanking him for his hospitality.
Even though he was a fake aristocrat, Jakob realised that the
ruling class looked after it's own.


It was well into the summer of 1906 when Count Politovsky
acquired his first mistress. The Indian housemaid of the
American Consul took his eye and he offered to purchase her from
him. As an indentured worker, she was bound to her contract with
the American for ten years. Unless, of course, her employer
decided to sell her contract to someone else.


The woman was in her early thirties, small with a pleasant
face. Her ample bust was disguised by her loose cotton shirts or
traditional saris. Jakob was taken by her shy smile, her
compliant nature and most probably by her apparent availability.
The American drove a hard bargain, after all this was business,
but eventually a price was agreed on. Asmira moved in to his
house the next day.


Jakob allowed her a couple of days to settle in before
acquainting her with her new duties. He wasn't sure what extra
duties she'd performed for her previous employer, but the
American had implied she was a good and 'obedient' employee.
Jakob mused that it may have been a negotiating tactic. He was
becoming experienced with the shark pool of naked commerce.


Asmira had never married. At her age she was unlikely to
attract an offer from one of her own community. Bound to her
employer as she was, her options were limited. Isolated from her
extended family in India, she could only make the best out of
what she had. And all she had was at the mercy of the phoney
Russian Count.


Jakob studied Asmira as she went about her house duties for the
first few days. He watched her with mounting anticipation. The
way she moved, her expressions, her eyes always respectfully
downcast. She'd give a little bob when recieving some
instruction and would answer, 'yes sir' with a small voice.
Eventually, Jakob decided to sample his new purchase.


He found her alone one day in the laundry, ironing. Coming up
behind her, he slipped his hands around her waist. Jakob felt
her stiffen at his touch, pause, then continue working. He
caressed her sides, his hands snaking higher towards her large
breasts. All the while, Asmira said nothing, her expression
controlled and neutral, her body neither unresisting nor
encouraging.


The housemaid tipped her head slightly to allow Jakob to brush
her neck with his lips. He pressed the palms of his hands to her
breasts, pushed his growing erection against her from behind.
One by one he began to undo the buttons of her loose shirt.
Asmira, meanwhile, continued to push her iron mechanically over
the garment in front of her.


"Come," Jakob told her quietly.


Asmira followed behind Jakob obediantly, clutching the halves
of her shirt closed around her. He led her into the master
bedroom and shut the door. Turning to face her, Jakob began to
undo his own shirt and motioned with a tip of the head for her
to do so also. Head down, the maid complied, quietly and
uncertainly. Her bosom was held in place by a bustier fastened
at the back. Asmira's face took on a look of concentration as
she fiddled with the snaps. Jakob was in his underpants by the
time Asmira had released the garment and turned to put it on the
table behind her.


He sucked in his breath at the sight of her smooth brown back.
He caught a glimpse of wobbling breast as she stooped to release
her island lavalava from around her waist. Jakob approached her
slowly as the tapa material slid down to reveal the expanse of
her wide, fluid bottom flesh. Gently he turned her around by the
shoulder and drank in the sight of the naked Indian woman's body.


Her eyes still stared at the floor as he began to explore her
gently with his fingertips. Jakob knew what it was like to be
totally at the mercy of another. He felt a twinge of sympathy
for the woman's plight. As a lower deck sailor on the Borodino
his life was totally in the hands of brutal PO's and unconcerned
Officers. It was the order of things in this world. One played
one's cards as they were dealt.


Jakob's flash of scruples vanished quickly in response to his
growing need. He stepped aside and indicated the bed. Asmira
nodded slightly in understanding, moved to the bed and lay down
on her back. With her eyes focussed on the ceiling, she slowly
spread her legs, knees bent, and allowed Jakob to inspect her.
Her lips parted slightly as he continued to explore her with his
fingers. He probed through her copious black bush to find the
moist gash of her sex. Jakob felt her body start at the
intrusion.


Taking her by the hand, he placed it on the bulge in front of
his underpants. As he moved her palm along his stiff cock, she
gripped him lightly with her fingers. Jakob let her explore him
on her own while he undid his buttons. Her eyes closed, she
breathed heavily making her glistening, brown body heave.
Releasing his erection, he placed it back in her hand, revelling
in the cool touch of her fingers.


Jakob stroked the maid's cheek and gently turned her head to
face his cock. Still with her eyes closed, her mouth opened a
little more as he pushed his cock forwards towards her mouth.
She co-operatively recieved his proffered member and allowed him
to push it between her lips. Clearly, Jakob thought, she wasn't
ignorant of the carnal tastes of men.


'Had that American taken her?' he asked himself, 'had he been
good to her?'


Her tongue caressed the underside of his penis, he winced at
the exquisite sensation.


'He couldn't have been that cruel or thoughtless,' he decided.
He didn't see any sign of fear or loathing, as one might expect
if she'd been harshly treated. He felt her again between the
legs and discovered the warm moisture of arousal. He sawed her
with his finger. Looking down at her as she worked him with her
mouth and tongue, he asked,


"You like?"


She remained silent, applying herself to pleasing her employer.
He pushed a finger into her, she grunted and took her mouth off
him to take a breath.


"Ready?" he asked.


Again, she was silent. The very briefest of smiles flicked over
her face. Turning to face the opposite wall, she braced herself
for the next part of her 'duty'. Jakob moved onto the bed and
knelt between her legs. He nudged her with the knob of his penis
and rubbed it over her bush. He enjoyed the sensation of her
prickly hairs.


Asmira looked down at what he was doing for the first time.
'Perhaps she's growing impatient? he asked himself, 'or maybe
she's wondering if I know what I'm doing?' He grinned. He
continued to tease her until she began to push her abdomen up at
him. Ever so slowly, Jakob pushed into her, gasping at the
sudden sensation of heat and moisture.


Stroking slowly, Jakob watched her face, her closed eyes and
parted mouth. A hint of a grimace, in pleasure or discomfort, it
was hard to tell. Of themselves, her hands pressed to his hips,
subtly guiding his movements.


Her skin was smooth and slick with perspiration. She was
rolling her hips at him, working his member in ways he'd never
felt before. Her pussy caressed his cock, drew the very essence
from him. They rolled faster and faster at one another, matching
rhythm to rhythm. Asmira gasped, cutting the sound off almost
immediately by holding her teeth together. 'Perhaps,' he
thought, 'this was a woman used to making love furtively, in
secret? Controlling the sounds of pleasure lest someone's spouse
burst in full of outrage?'


Jakob felt a flash of jealousy towards her previous employer,
the American Consul. 'Had he had her like this?' He was sure he
had and it bothered him strangely. He jabbed at her harder and
faster as if wanting to punish her for her infidelity. Like
accusing a whore of betraying him with other customers. It was
senseless and irrational but still he continued to pound into
her. Asmira grunted, opened her eyes and looked at him, puzzled.


Suddenly Jakob burst into her, his hands gripping her hard
around the bottom and holding himself deep inside the woman. Her
mouth was open, her expression indecypherable. Spent, Jakob kept
holding her body tight against him, possessively. She was his
and no other's.


Afterwards, he watched her get up off the bed, towel herself
down, and recover her clothes. Silently she dressed. Jakob liked
watching her dress, like sharing another intimacy between a man
and a woman. He felt he should offer her something, but changed
his mind. He didn't want to be reminded that this was a
commercial arrangement. She was his employee and this was one of
her 'duties.'


Far from exhultation at the coupling, Jakob felt emotionally
flat. This wasn't how he'd imagined it would be. Asmira was
another human being who had little choice but to do her master's
bidding. He wished it were otherwise, but it was nothing more.


That night at bedtime, Asmira appeared at his bedroom door.
Head down and shy, she asked if 'that was all.' Mechanically,
Jakob opened the door wider and silently Asmira walked in and
began to undress. Evidently, she'd accepted that this was the
way it was going to be.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Asmira's English was basic, more basic than Jakob's. Her
Russian was non-existant. Their's was a transaction where
conversation was pointless. Each night for the next three
months, Asmira walked quietly and obediantly into her master's
bedroom at night and disrobed while Jakob watched her. He never
tired of watching her take off her clothes. Wordless, she would
get into bed, always on the same side, and wait for Jakob's
attention.


She was skilled at lovemaking. As a physical act, Jakob wished
for nothing more. She teased him with her mouth and hand.
Allowed him access to every part of her body.


He delighted when she rode on top, bouncing up and down with
skill and enthusiasm. Jakob loved to watch her large breasts
flap inches from his nose. He sometimes gripped them with his
hands and squeezed her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She
was responding more and more aloud. The need to keep their
affair secret was pointless as there was no 'Countess' to
disturb the arrangement.


Jakob felt protective of her. He felt an increasing familiarity
with his Indian maid that wasn't strictly appropriate, given her
status. As the weeks ground on, it was becoming obvious too that
she was carrying his child.


The White settler community in Samoa was ambiguous at best in
their attitude to inter-racial 'liasons.' Spurred on by the
missionaries, the German Governor introduced a raft of
'morality' laws in the summer of 1907. Specifically, these were
aimed at keeping the Chinese and Samoans apart. In this tail end
of the era of 'Social-Darwinism' the marriage of the two races
were thought to have unfortunate racial outcomes. Later on, the
New Zealand Colonial Authorities were to introduce much harsher
laws, but in the pre-war period, relations between races were to
be discouraged. This did not apply to the Whites, however. Their
own 'sense of self-respect' was supposed to be enough. In
private, they recognised that such 'unions' went on, but in
public it was not appropriate to advertise the fact.


Jakob understood the way of things and Asmira's pregnancy was
causing him anxiety. Should he stand up to the hypocracy of
settler society and claim Asmira's child as his own? Only the
most powerful could get away with such a challenge. Jakob
doubted that he had enough to take on the united forces of the
Church and the lawmakers.


Gouverner Westermann was a tub of a man, as short as he was
round. Jakob looked after his taste for Cognac, Westermann saw
that certain rules were bent occasionally for Jakob's benefit.
It was a happy arrangement for the Governer's consumption of
Cognac rivalled Jakob's need for relaxed commercial laws. It was
to the Governor that Jakob turned for advice concerning his
'problem.'


"Immaculate conception!" chuckled the German, "it goes on all
the time."


It was well past midday and the Governor had started on a fresh
bottle.


"Why do you wish to claim this child?" he asked.


"Because it's mine," Jakob told him, dejectedly.


"So? Find a wife... pop out some more 'kinder', and rear them
all together. So the Nanny has a few extras? it's not uncommon."


Westermann dismissed Jakob's objections with a flick of the hand.


"My daughter would like to be a countess," he added, "she likes
you too; a bonus."


"But she's just a child!" Jakob protested.


"Ach, she's old enough to be a pain in the arse. You would be
doing myself and Frau Westermann a great favour. In any case,
she's 16 Y'know. We can add on a couple of years for
appearances, that's not a problem." Westermann grinned broadly.


"What about Asmira?" Jakob asked, "I won't let her go..."


The Governor shrugged.


"Do what you like with her, she's yours."


"I suppose..." Jakob replied, dissatisfied.


----------------------------------------------------------------


Katalin Westermann would not set the world alight with her
intelligence. She did, though, desperately want to be a
Countess. Counts were at a premium in Samoa and Jakob was well
aware of Katalin's ambitions towards him.


She was blonde and pretty, however, but seemed to him young and
silly. Suitable brides for a Russian Count were also at a
premium and there was simply no-one else. The match had also the
advantage of being widely expected by the Settlers. 'It was
time,' they thought, 'for the good Russian Count to find a
respectable wife. It was just so unhealthy for him to be single.'


First he had to break the news to Asmira. He imagined, for some
reason, that she would be upset about being displaced from his
bed. He invited her for a walk in the garden. Asmira always took
his invitations as an order and today was no exception.


He explained that he was considering asking Katalin Westermann
to marry him. In heavily accented English, she told him she
would make a pretty wife for him.


"But," he told her, "I don't want to let you go!"


She looked at him, puzzled.


"What have I done?" she asked him, "I not make trouble."


Fear was in her eyes. Pregnant with her master's child, she
imagined he was now going to send her away to certain
destitution.


"No, no!" he said hurredly, frustrated, "I know you won't make
any trouble... it's... it's... just that I've grown... fond of
you. I want our child..."


The words caught in his throat. She continued to stare at him
with a mixture of surprise and confusion.


"You cannot..." she said, wide-eyed with understanding, "you
musn't..."


She turned and hurried back to the house. It was Jakob's turn
to be confused.


KATZMAREK (c)
<1st attachment end>


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