Текст книги "Eagle in the Sky"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

Соавторы: Wilbur Smith
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drank he was glad that she had so many roads to choose from.

The Brig's arrangements allowed them three more weeks before the

rendezvous in Cape Town, and David drew upon each hour to the full,

anticipating his chances of expulsion from their private Eden.

They were happy days and it seemed that nature had conspired to give

them of her best.  The goodrains fell steadily, always beginning in the

afternoon after a incoming of tall clouds and heavy air filled with

static and the feel of thunder.  In the sunset the lightning played and

flickered across the gilt cloud banks, turned by the angry sun to the

colour of burnished bronze and virgins blushes.  Then in the darkness as

they lay entwined, the thunder struck like a hammer blow and the

lightning etched the window beyond the bed to a square of blinding white

light, and the rain came teeming down with the sound of wild fire and

running hooves.  With David beside her, Debra was unafraid.

In the morning it was bright and cool, the trees washed sparkling clean

so that the leaves glinted in the early sun and the earth was dark with

water and spangled with standing pools.

The rains brought life and excitement to the wild things, and each day

held its small discoveries -unexpected visitations, and strange

occurrences.

The fish eagles moved their two chicks from the great shaggy nest in the

mhobahoba at the head of the pools and taught them to perch out on the

bare limb that supported it.  They sat there day after day, seeming to

gather their courage.  The parent birds were frenetic in their

ministrations, grooming their offspring for the great moment of flight.

Then one morning, as he and Debra ate breakfast on the stoop, David

heard the swollen chorus of their chanting cries, harsh with triumph,

and he took Debra's hand and they went down the steps into the open.

David looked up and saw the four dark shapes spread on wide wings

against the clear blue of the sky, and his spirit soared with them in

their moment of achievement.

They flew upwards in great sweeping circles, until they dwindled to

specks and vanished, gone to their autumn grounds upon the Zambezi

River, two thousand miles to the north.

There was, however, one incident during those last days that saddened

and subdued them both.  One morning, they walked four miles northwards

beyond the line of hills to a narrow wedge-shaped plain on which stood a

group of towering leadwood trees.

A pair of martial eagles had chosen the tallest leadwood as their mating

ground.  The female was a beautiful young bird but the male was past his

prime.  They had begun constructing their nest on a high fork, but the

work was interrupted by the intrusion of a lone male eagle, a big young

bird, fierce and proud and acquisitive.

David had noticed him lurking about the borders of the territory,

carefully avoiding overlying the airspace claimed by the breeding pair,

choosing a perch on the hills overlooking the plain and gathering his

confidence for the confrontation he was so clearly planning.  The

impending conflict had its particular fascination for David and his

sympathy was with the older bird as he made his warlike show, screeching

defiance from his perch upon the high branches of the leadwood or

weaving his patrols along his borders, turning on his great wings always

within the limits of that which he claimed as his own.

David had decided to walk up to the plain that day, in order to choose a

site for the photographic blind he planned to erect overlooking the nest

site, and also in curiosity as to the outcome of this primeval clash

between the two males.

It seemed more than chance that he had chosen the day when the crisis

was reached.

David and Debra came up through the gap in the hills and paused to sit

on an outcrop of rock overlooking the plain, while they regained their

breath.  The battlefield was spread below them.

The old bird was at the nest, a dark hunched shape with white breast and

head set low on the powerful shoulders.  David looked for the invader,

sweeping the crests of the hills with his binoculars, but there was no

sign of him.  He dropped the binoculars to his chest and he and Debra

talked quietly for a while.

Then suddenly David's attention was attracted by the behaviour of the

old eagle.  He launched suddenly into flight, striking upwards on his

great black pinions, and there was an urgency in the way he bored for

height.

His climb brought him close over their heads, so that David could

clearly see the cruel curve of the beak and the ermine black splashes

that decorated the imperial snow of his breast.

He opened the yellow beak and shrieked a harsh challenge, and David

turned quickly in the old fighter pilot's sweep of sky and cloud.  He

saw the cunning of it immediately.  The younger bird had chosen his

moment and his attack vector with skill beyond his years.  He was

towering in the sun, high and clear, a flagrant trespasser, daring the

old eagle to come up at him and David felt his skin crawl in sympathy as

he watched the defender climb slowly on flogging wings.

Quickly, and a little breathlessly, he described it to Debra and she

reached for his hand, her sympathy with the old bird also.

Tell me!  'she commanded.

The young bird sailed calmly in waiting circles, cocking his head to

watch his adversary's approach.

There he goes!  David's voice was taut, as the attacker went wing over

and began his stoop.

I can hear him, Debra whispered, and the sound of his wings carried

clearly to them, rustling like a bush fire in dry grass as he dived on

the old bird.

Break left!  Go!  Go!  Go!  David found he was calling to the old eagle

as though he were flying wingman for him, and he gripped Debra's hand

until she winced.  The old eagle seemed almost to hear him, for he

closed his WIngs and flicked out of the path of the strike, tumbling for

a single turn so that the attacker hissed by him with talons reaching

uselessly through air, his speed plummeting him down into the basin of

the plain.

The old bird caught and broke out of his roll with wings half-cocked,

and streaked down after the other.  In one veteran stroke of skill he

had wrested the advantage.

Get him!  screamed David.  Get him when he turns!

Now!

The young bird was streaking towards the tree-toops and swift death, he

flared his wings to break his fall, turning desperately to avoid the

lethal stoop of his enemy.  In that moment he was vulnerable and the old

eagle reached forward with his terrible spiked talons and without

slackening the searing speed of his dive he hit the other bird in the

critical moment of his turn.

The thud of the impact carried clearly to the watchers on the hill and

there was a puff of feathers like the burst of explosives, black from

the wings and white from the breast.

Locked together by the old bird's honed killing claws, they tumbled,

wing over tangled wing, feathers streaming from their straining bodies

and then drifting away like thistledown on the light breeze.

Still joined in mortal combat, they struck the top branches of one of

the leadwood trees, and fell through them to come to rest at last in a

high fork as an untidy bundle of ruffled feathers and trailing wings.

Leading Debra over the rough ground David hurried down the hill and

through the coarse stands of arrow grass to the tree.

Can you see them?  Debra asked anxiously, as David focused his

binoculars on the struggling pair.

They are trapped, David told her.  The old fellow has his claws buried

to the hilt in the other's back.  He will never be able to free them and

they have fallen across the fork, one on either side of the tree.  The

screams of rage and agony rang from the hills about them, and the female

eagle sailed anxiously above the leadwood.  She added her querulous

screeching to the sound of conflict.

The young bird is dying.  David studied him through the lens, watching

the carmine drops ooze from the gaping yellow beak to fall and glisten

upon the snowy breast, like a dying king's rubies.

And the old bird– Debra listened to the clamour with face upturned, her

eyes dark with c oncem.

He will never get those claws loose, they lock automatically as soon as

pressure is applied and he will not be able to lift himself.  He will

die also.  Can't you do something?

Debra was tugging at his arm.  Can't you help him?  Gently he tried to

explain to her that the birds were locked together seventy feet above

the earth.  The hole of the leadwood was smooth and without branches for

the first fifty feet of its height.  It would take days of effort to

reach the birds, and by then it would be too late.

Even if one could reach them, darling, they are two wild creatures,

fierce and dangerous, those beaks and talons could tear the eyes out of

your head or rip you to the bone, nature does not like interference in

her designs.  Isn't there anything we can do?  she pleaded.

Yes, he answered quietly.  Ve can come back in the morning to see if he

has been able to free himself.  But we will bring a gun with us, in case

he has not.  in the dawn they came together to the leadwood tree.

The young bird was dead, hanging limp and graceless, but the old bird

was still alive, linked by his claws to the carcass of the other, weak

and dying but, with the furious yellow flames still burning in his eyes.

He heard their voices and twisted the shaggy old head and opened his

beak in a last defiant cry.

David loaded the shotgun, snapping the barrels closed and staring up at

the old eagle.  Not you alone, old friend, he thought, and he lifted the

gun to his shoulder and hit him with two charges of buckshot.  They left

him hanging in tatters with trailing wings and the quick patter of blood

slowing to a dark steady drip.  David felt as though he had destroyed a

part of himself in that blast of gunfire, and the shadow of it was cast

over the bright days that followed.

These few days sped past too swiftly for David, and when they were

almost gone he and Debra spent the last of them wandering together

across Jabulani, visiting each of their special places and seeking out

the various herds or individual animals almost as if they were taking

farewell of old friends.  In the evening they came to the place amongst

the fever trees beside the pools, and they sat there until the sun had

fallen below the earth in a splendour of purples and muted pinks.  Then

the mosquitoes began whining about their heads, and they strolled back

hand in hand and came to the homestead in the dark.

They packed their bags that night and left them on the stoop, ready for

an early start.  Then they drank champagne beside the barbecue fire. The

wine lifted their mood and they laughed together in their little island

of firelight in the vast ocean of the African night – but for David

there were echoes from the laughter, and he was aware of a sense of

finality, of an ending of something and a new beginning.

When they took off from the landing-strip in the early morning, David

circled twice over the estate, climbing slowly, and the pools glinted

like gunmetal amongst the hills as the low sun touched them.  The land

was lush with the severe unpromising shade of green, so different from

that of the lands of the northern hemisphere, and the servants stood in

the yard of the homestead, shading their eyes and waving up at them,

their shadows lying long and narrow against the ruddy earth.

David came around and steadied on course.

Cape Town, here we come, he said, and Debra smiled and reached across to

lay her hand upon his leg in warm and companionable silence.

They had the suite at the Mount Nelson Hotel, preferring its ancient

elegance and spacious palmy gardens to the modern slabs of glass and

concrete upon the foreshore and the rocks of Sea Point.  They stayed in

the suite for the two days, awaiting the Brig's arrival, for David had

grown unaccustomed to humanity in its massed and unlovely multitudes,

and found the quick inquisitive glances and murmurs of pity that

followed him hard to stomach.

on the second day the Brig arrived.  He knocked on the door of the suite

and then entered with his aggressive and determined stride.  He was lean

and hard and brown, as David remembered, and when he and Debra had

embraced, he turned to David and his hand was dry and leathery, but it

seemed that he looked at David with a new calculation in the fierce

warrior eyes.

While Debra bathed and dressed for the evening, he took David to his own

suite and poured whisky for him without asking his preference.  He gave

David the glass and began immediately to discuss the arrangements he had

made.

Friedman will be at the reception.  I will introduce him to Debra and

let them talk for a while, then he will be seated next to her at the

dinner-table.  This will give us the opportunity to persuade Debra to

undergo an examination later, Before we go any further, sir, David

interrupted, I want your assurance that at no time will it ever be

suggested to her that there is a possibility of Debra regaining her

sight.

Very well.

I mean, at no time whatsoever.  Even if Friedman determines that surgery

is necessary, it must be for some other reason than to restore sight, I

don't think that is possible, the Brig snapped angrily.  If matters go

that far, then Debra must be told.  It would not be fair It was David's

turn for anger, although the frozen mask of his features remained

immobile, the lipless slit of mouth turned pale and the blue eyes

glared.

Let me determine what is fair.  I know her as you never can, I know what

she feels and what she is thinking.  If you offer her a chance of sight,

you will create for her the same dilemma in which I have been trapped

since the possibility first arose.  I would spare her that.  'I do not

understand you, the Brig said stiffly.  The hostility between them was a

tangible essence that seemed to fill the room with the feel of thunder

on a summer's day.

Then let me explain, David held his eyes, refusing to be brow-beaten by

this fierce and thrusting old warrior.  Your daughter and I have

achieved an extraordinary state of happiness.

The Brig inclined his head, acknowledging.  Yes, I will accept your word

for that, but it is an artificial state.

It's a hot-house thing, reared in isolation, it has no relation to the

real world.  It's a dream state.

David felt his anger begin to shake the foundations of his reason.  He

found it offensive that anybody should speak of Debra and his life in

those terms, but at the same time he could see the justification.

You may say so, sir.  But for Debra and me, it is very real.  it is

something of tremendous value.  The Brig was silent now.

I will tell you truly that I thought long and hard before I admitted

that there was a chaance for Debra, and even then I would have hidden it

for my own selfish happiness, You still do not make sense.  How can

Debra regaining her sight affect you?

Look at me, said David softly, and the Brig glared at him ferociously,

expecting more, but when nothing further came his expression eased and

he did look at David, for the first time truly seeing the terribly

ravaged head, the obscene travesty of human shape, and suddenly he

thought on it from David's side, whereas before he had considered it

only as a father.

His eyes dropped and he turned to replenish his whisky glass.

If I can give her sight, I will do it.  Even though it will be an

expensive gift for me, she must take it.  David felt his voice

trembling.  But I believe that she loves me enough to spurn it, if she

were ever given the choice.  I do not want her ever to be tortured by

that choice.  The Brig lifted his glass and took a deep swallow, half

the contents at a gulp.

As you wish, he acquiesced, and it may have been the whisky, but his

voice sounded husky with an emotion David had never suspected before.

Thank you, sir.  David set down his own glass, still untasted.  If

you'll excuse me, I think I should go and change now.  He moved to the

door.

David!  the Brig called to him and he turned back.

The gold tooth gleamed in the dark bristly patch of mustache, as the

Brig smiled a strangely embarrassed but gentle smile.

You'll do, he said.

The reception was in the banquet-room at the Heerengracht Hotel, and as

David and Debra rode up together in the elevator, she seemed to sense

his dread, for she squeezed his arm.

Stay close to me tonight, she murmured.  I'll need you, and he knew it

was said to distract him and he was grateful to her.  They would be a

freak show, and even though he was sure most of the guests had been

prepared, yet he knew it would be an ordeal.  He leaned to brush her

cheek with his.

Her hair was loose and soft, very dark and glossy and the sun had gilded

her face to gold.  She wore a plain green sheath that fell in simple

lines to the floor, but left her arms and shoulders bare.  They were

strong and smooth, with the special lustre of the skin highlighting the

smooth flow of her flesh.

She wore little make-up, a light touch on the lips only, and the serene

expression of her eyes enhanced the simple grace of her carriage as she

moved on his arm, giving David just that courage he needed to face the

crowded room.

it was an elegant gathering, women in rich silks and jewellery, the men

dark-suited, with the heaviness of body and poise which advertises power

and wealth, but the Brig stood out amongst them, even in a civilian

suit, lean and hard where they were plump and complacent like a falcon

amongst a flock of pheasants.

He brought Reuben Friedman to them and introduced them casually.  He was

a short heavily built man, with a big alert head seeming out of

proportion to his body.

His hair was cropped short and grizzled to the round skull, but David

found himself liking the bright bird eyes and the readiness of his

smile.  His hand was warm, but dry and firm.  Debra was drawn to, him

also, and smiled when she picked up the timbre of his voice and the

essential warmth of his personality.

As they went into dinner, she asked David what he looked like, and

laughed with delight when he replied.

Like a koala bear, and they were talking easily together before the fish

course was served.  Friedman's wife, a slim girl with horned-rimmed

spectacles, neither beautiful nor plain, but with her husband's

forthright friendly manner, leaned across him to join the conversation

and David heard her say, Won't you come to lunch tomorrow?  If you can

stand a brood of squalling kids.  We don't usually, Debra replied, but

David could hear her wavering, and she turned to him.

May we -?  'and he agreed and then they were laughing like old friends,

but David was silent and withdrawn, knowing it was all subterfuge and

suddenly oppressed by the surging chorus of human voices and the clatter

of cutlery.  He found himself longing for the night silence of the

bushveld, and the solitude which was not solitude with Debra to share

it.

When the master of ceremonies rose to introduce the speaker, David found

it an intense relief to know the ordeal was drawing to a close and he

could soon hurry away with Debra to hide from the prying, knowing eyes.

The introductory speech was smooth and professional, the jokes raised a

chuckle, but it lacked substance, five minutes after you would not

remember what had been said.

Then the Brig rose and looked about him with a kind of Olympian scorn,

the warrior's contempt for the soft men, and though these rich and

powerful men seemed to quail beneath the stare, yet David sensed that

they enjoyed it.  They derived some strange vicarious pleasure from this

man.  He was a figurehead, he gave to them a deep confidence, a point on

which their spirits could rally.  He was one of them, and yet apart.  it

seemed that he was a storehouse of the race's pride and strength.

Even David was surprised by the power that flowed from the lean old

warrior, the compelling presence with which he filled the huge room and

dominated his audience.  He seemed immortal and invincible, and David's

own emotions stirred, his own pulse quickened and he found himself

carried along on the flood.

but for all of this there is a price to pay.  Part of this price is

constant vigil, constant readiness.  Each of us is ready at any moment

to answer the call to the defence of what is ours, and each of us must

be ready to make without question whatever sacrifice is demanded.  This

can be life itself, or something every bit as dear Suddenly David

realized that the Brig had singled him out, and that they were staring

at each other across the room.  The Brig was sending him a message of

strength, of courage, but it was misinterpreted by others in the

gathering.

They saw the silent exchange between the two men, and many of them knew

that David's terrible disfigurement and Debra's blindness were wounds of

war.  They misunderstood the Brig's reference to sacrifice, and one of

them began to applaud.

Immediately it was taken up, a smattering here and there amongst the

tables, but quickly the sound rose became thunder.

People were staring at David and Debra as they clapped, other heads

turned towards them.

Chairs began to scrape as they were pushed back and men and women came

to their feet, their faces smiling and their applause pounding, until it

filled the hall with sound and they were all standing.

Debra was not sure what it was all about, until she felt David's

desperate hand in hers and heard his voice.

Let's get out of here, quickly.  They are all staring.

They are staring at us She could feel his hand shaking and the strength

of his distress at being the subject of their ghoulish curiosity.

Come, let's get away.  And she rose at his urging with her heart crying

out in pain for him, and followed him while the thunder of applause

burst upon his defenceless head like the blows of an enemy and their

eyes wantonly raked his ravaged flesh.

Even when they reached the sanctuary of their own suite, he was still

shaking like a man in fever.

The bastard, he whispered, as he poured whisky in a glass and the neck

of the bottle clattered against the crystal rim.  The cruel bastard, why

did he do that to us?  David.  She came to him groping for his hand.  He

didn't mean it to hurt.  I know he meant it well, I think he was trying

to say he was proud of you.  David felt the urge to flee, to find relief

from it all within the sanctuary of Jabulani.  The temptation to say to

her Come and lead her there, knowing that she would do so instantly, was

so strong that he had to wrestle with it, as though it were a physical

adversary.

The whisky tasted rank and smoky.  It offered no avenue of escape and he

left the glass standing upon the counter of the private bar and turned

instead to Debra.

Yes, she whispered into his mouth.  Yes, my darling, and there was a

woman's pride, a woman's joy in being the vessel of his ease.  As always

she was able to fly with him above the storm, using the wild winds of

love to drive them both aloft, until they broke through together into

the brightness and peace and safety.

David woke in the night while she lay sleeping.  There was a silver moon

reflecting from the french windows and he could study her sleeping face,

but after a while it was not sufficient for his need and he reached

across gently and switched on the bedside lamp.

She stirred in her sleep, coming softly awake with small sighs and and

tumbling black hair brushed from her eyes with a sleep-clumsy hand, and

David felt the first chill of impending loss.  He knew he had not moved

the bed when he lit the lamp, what had disturbed her he knew beyond

doubt was the light itself, and this time not even their loving could

distract him.

Reuben Friedman's dwelling proclaimed his station in the world.  It was

built above the sea with lawns that ran down to the beach and big dark

green melkhout trees surrounding the swimming-pool, with an elaborate

Cabana and barbecue area.  Marion Friedman's horde of kids were

especially thinned out for the occasion, probably farmed out with

friends, but she retained her two youngest.  These came to peer in awe

at David for a few minutes, but at a sharp word from their mother they

went off to the pool and became immersed in water and their own games.

The Brig had another speaking engagement, so the four adults were left

alone, and after a while they relaxed.  Somehow the fact that Reuben was

a doctor seemed to set both David and Debra at their ease.  Debra

remarked on it, when the conversation turned to their injuries and

Reuben asked solicitously, You don't mind talking about it?

No, not with you.  Somehow it's all right to bare yourself in front of a

doctor.

Don't do it, my dear, Marion cautioned her.  Not in front of Ruby

anyway, look at me, six kids, already!  And they laughed.

Ruby had been out early that morning and taken half a dozen big crayfish

out of the crystal water, from a kelp-filled pool in the rocks which he

boasted was his private fishing-ground.

He wrapped them in fresh kelp leaves and steamed them over the coals

until they turned bright scarlet and the flesh was milk white and

succulent as he broke open the carapaces.

Now, if that isn't the finest spring chicken you have ever seen he

crowed as he held up the dismembered shellfish, you all bear witness

that it's got two legs and feathers.

David admitted that he had never tasted poultry like it and as he washed

it down with a dry Cape Riesling;

he found it was no terrible hardship to reach for another.

Both he and Debra were enjoying themselves, so that it came as a jolt

when Reuben at last began on the real purpose of their meeting.

He was leaning across Debra to refill her wine glass, when he paused and

asked her.

How long is it since your eyes were last checked out, my dear?  and

gently he placed his hand under her chin and tilted her face to look

into her eyes.  David's nerves snapped taut, and he moved quickly in his

chair, watching intently.

Not since I left Israel, though they took some Xrays when I was in

hospital.  Any headaches?  Ruby asked, and she nodded.  Ruby grunted and

released her chin.

I suppose they could strike me off, drumming up business, but I do think

that you should have periodic checks.  Two years is a long time, and you

have foreign matter lodged inside your skull.  I hadn't even thought

about it.

Debra frowned slightly and reached up to touch the scar on her temple.

David felt his conscience twinge as he joined actively in the

conspiracy.

It can't do any harm, darling.  Why not let Ruby give you a going over

while we are here?  Heaven knows when we will have another opportunity.

Oh, David, Debra disparaged the idea.  I know you are itching to head

for home, and so am V Another day or two won't matter, and now that we

have thought about it, it's going to worry us.  Debra turned her head in

Ruby's direction.  How long will it take?  A day.  I'll give you an

examination in the morning, and then we'll shoot some X-ray plates in

the afternoon.  'How soon could you see her?  David asked, his vice

unnatural for he knew that the appointment had been arranged five weeks

previously.

Oh, I'm sure we could fit her in right away, tomorrow, even if we have

to do a little juggling.  Yours is rather a special case.  David reached

across and took Debra's hand.

Okay, darling?  he asked.

Okay, David, she agreed readily.

Ruby's consulting-rooms were in the Medical Centre that towered above

the harbour and looked out across Table Bay to where the black

southeaster was hacking the tops from the waves in bursts of white, and

shrouding the far shores of the bay in banks of cloud as grey as wood

smoke.

The rooms were decorated with care and taste: two original landscapes by

Pierneef and some good carpets, Samarkand and a gold-washed Abedah, even

Ruby's receptionist looked like a hostess from a Playboy Club, without

the bunny ears and tail.  It was clear that Dr. Friedman enjoyed the

good things of life.

The receptionist was expecting them, but still could not control the

widening of her eyes and the shocked flight of colour from her cheeks as

she looked at David's face.

Dr. Friedman is waiting for you, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.

He wants you both to go through, please.  Ruby looked different without

his prosperous paunch bulging over the waistband of a bathing costume,

but his greeting was warm as he took Debra's arm.

Shall we let David stay with us?  he asked Debra in mock conspiracy.

Let's, she answered.

After the usual clinical history which Ruby pursued relentlessly, he

seemed satisfied and they went through into his examination-room.  The

chair looked to David to be identical to a dentist's, and Ruby adjusted

it for Debra to lie back comfortably while he made a physical

examination, directing light through her pupils deep into the body of

each eye.

Nice healthy eyes, he gave his opinion at last, and very pretty also,

what do you say, David?  Smashing, David agreed, and Ruby sat Debra

upright while he attached electrodes to her arm and swung forward a

complicated-looking piece of electronic equipment.

ECG, David guessed, and Ruby chuckled and shook his head.

No, it's a little invention of my own.  I'm quite proud of it, but in

reality it's only a variation on the oldfashioned lie-detector. Question

time again?  Debra asked.

No.  We are going to flash lights at you, and see just what sort of

subconscious reaction you have to them.  'We know that already, 'Debra

told him, and they both heard the edge in her voice now.

Perhaps.  It's just an established routine we work to.  Ruby soothed

her, and then to David.  Stand back here, please.  The lights are pretty

fierce, and you don't want to be looking into them.  David moved back

and Ruby adjusted the machine.  A roll of graph paper began running

slowly under a moving stylus which settled almost immediately into a

steady rhythmic pattern.  On a separate glass screen a moving green dot

of light began to repeat the same rhythm, leaving a fading trail across

the screen like the tail of a comet.  It reminded David of the

interceptor radar screen on the instrument panel of a Mirage jet.  Ruby