Текст книги "Power of the Sword"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 51 страниц)

She felt the care and terrible strain of those last months recede in the face of so much vibrant beauty, and she laughed spontaneously at the joy of it and shaded her eyes from the glare of orange and red and sulphur-yellow flower banks and searched the seashore eagerly.

It's a shack, Blaine had warned her in his last letter. Two rooms and no running water, an earth latrine and an open hearth. But I have spent my holidays there since a child and I love it. I have shared it with nobody else since my father's death. I go there alone whenever I can. You will be the first. And he had drawn a map of the road to it.

She picked it out immediately, standing on the edge of the ocean, perched upon the horn of rock where the shallow bay turned. The thatched roof had blackened with age but the thick adobe walls were whitewashed as bright as the foam that curled out on the green sea, and a wisp of smoke smeared towards her from the chimney.

Beyond the building she saw movement and picked out a tiny human shape on the rocks at the edge of the sea, and suddenly she was desperate with haste.

The engine would not fire, though she cranked the starter until the battery faltered.

Merde! And double merde! It was an old vehicle, used and abused by one of her under-managers on the estate until she had commandeered it to replace the ruined Daimler, and now its failure was an unwelcome reminder of her financial straits, so different from when she had driven a new daffodilyellow Daimler every year.

She let off the handbrake and let the Ford trundle down the slope, gathering speed until she jumped the clutch and the engine started with a shudder and roar of blue smoke and she flew down the hill and parked behind the whitewashed shack.

She ran out onto the black rocks above the water and the swaying beds of black-stemmed kelp that danced to the scend of the sea, and she waved and shouted, her voice puny on the wind and the rumble of the ocean but he looked up and saw her and came at a run, jumping from rock to slippery wet rock.

He wore only a pair of khaki shorts, and he carried a bunch of live rock lobsters in one hand. His hair had grown since last she had seen him. It was damp and curly with sea salt, and he was laughing, his mouth open and his big teeth flashing whitely and he had grown a mustache. She wasn't sure whether she liked that, but the thought was lost in the tumult of her own emotions and she ran to meet him and flung herself against his bare chest.

Oh Blaine, she sobbed. Oh God, how I've missed you. Then she lifted her mouth to him. His face was wet with seaspray and it was salty on his lips. His mustache prickled.

She had been right first time, she didn't like it, but then he lifted her high and was running with her towards the shack, and she held him tightly with both arms around his neck, bouncing in his arms, jolted by his long strides, and laughing breathlessly with her own fierce need of him.

Blaine sat on a three-legged stool in front of the open hearth on which a fire of milkwood burned and perfumed the air with its fragrant incense. Centaine stood before him, working up a lather in the china shaving mug with his badger-hair brush, while Blaine complained.

It took five months to grow, and I was so proud of it. He twirled the ends of his mustache for the last time. It's so dashing, don't you think? No, said Centaine firmly. I do not. I'd prefer to be kissed by a porcupine. She bent over him and lathered both sides of his upper lip with a thick foam, and then stood back and surveyed her handiwork with a critical eye.

Perched on the stool Blaine was still stark naked from their love-making, and suddenly Centaine grinned wickedly.

Before he could fathom her intentions or move to protect himself, she had stepped forward again and daubed his most intimate extremity with a white blob of lather from the brush.

He looked down at himself, appalled. Hi-in too? he demanded.

That would be cutting off my nose to spite my own face, she giggled. Or something like that. Then she put her head on one side and gave her considered opinion. The little devil looks a lot better with a mustache than you do. Careful with that adjective Iittle", he admonished her, and reached for his towel. Come along, old fellow, you don't have to put up with this disrespect. He wrapped the towel around his waist and Centaine nodded.

That's better. Now I can concentrate on the job without distraction, and she took up the cut-throat razor that lay ready on the table-top and stropped it on the leather with quick practised strokes.

Where did you learn that? I am beginning to feel jealous. My papa, she explained. I always trimmed his moustaches. Now hold still! She took the tip of his large nose between thumb and forefinger and lifted it.

For what we are about to receive, Blaine's voice was muffled by her grip on his nose. He closed his eyes and winced as the steel rustled over his upper lip, and a few moments later Centaine stepped back and wiped the lather and hair from the blade, laid the razor aside and came back to dry his upper lip and then stroke the smooth skin with her fingertip.

It looks better; it feels better, she told him. But there is still the final test. And she kissed him.

Hmmm! She murmured her approval, and then still without breaking the kiss she wriggled round and sat on his lap.

It went on for a long time until she broke away and looked down. The towel had slipped. I say, here comes the little moustached devil again, obviously spoiling for trouble. She reached down and gently wiped away the last traces of lather from the tip.

You see! Even he looks a lot better cleanshavem, Blaine stood up with her in his arms. I think it is time, woman, that you learned the hard way that you can get away with just so much and then we must establish who is the boss around here. And he carried her to the bunk against the far wall.

Much later they sat side by side cross-legged on the bunk with a single brightly coloured Basuto blanket draped over their bare shoulders, leaning together and watching the fire shadows flicker along the rough plastered walls, listening to the wind off the ocean soughing around the eaves of the thatched roof in the darkness outside, cupping their hands around steaming mugs of fish soup.

One of my specialities, Blaine had boasted, and it was thick with chunks of fresh galjoen fish and lobster that he had caught that day. 'Wonderful powers of rejuvenation for those suffering from over-exertion. Blaine recharged the mugs twice, for they were both ravenous, and then Centaine went to the fire, her naked body gleaming in the ruddy glow of the firelight, to bring him a smouldering twig to light his cheroot. When it was burning evenly, she climbed under the blanket again and snuggled against him.

Did you ever find that young boy you were looking for? he asked lazily. Abe Abrahams came to me for help, you know. He was unaware how the question had affected her, for she controlled the reflex stiffening of her body and simply shook her head. No. He disappeared. He was Lothar De La Rey's son. I deduced that. Yes, she agreed. I was worried about him. He must have been deserted and alone after his father's sentence. I'll keep looking for him, Blaine promised. And let you know if anything comes up. He stroked her hair. You are a kind person, he murmured. There was no reason why you should concern yourself with the boy. They were silent again, but reference to the outside world had broken the spell and started a trail of thought that was unpleasant but had to be followed to the end.

How is Isabella? she asked, and felt the muscles of his chest tighten and swell beneath her cheek, but he inhaled a puff from the cheroot before he answered.

Her condition is deteriorating. Atrophy of the nerves of her lower body. Ulceration. She has been in Groote Schuur hospital since Monday. The ulcers at the base of her spine will not heal. I'm sorry, Blaine. That is how I have managed to get away these few days.

The girls are with their grandmother. That makes me feel awful. I would feel worse if I couldn't see you, he replied.

Blaine, we must keep to our resolution. We must never hurt her or the girls. He was silent again, then abruptly he flicked the stub of the cheroot across the room into the fire. It looks as though she will have to go to England. There is a surgeon at Guy's Hospital who has performed miracles. When? Her heart felt like a cannonball in her chest, suffocating her with its weight.

Before Christmas. It depends on the tests they are doing now. 'You will have to go with her, of course. That would mean resigning as administrator and damaging my chances, he broke off; he had never discussed his ambitions with her.

Your chances of a place in a future cabinet and possibly one day the premiership, she finished for him.

He stirred, taking her face between his hands and turning it gently so he could look into her eyes. You knew? he asked, and Centaine nodded.

Do you think that cruel of me? he asked. That I could let Isabella go on her own, for my selfish ambitions? No, she said seriously. I know about ambition. I offered, he said, while unquiet shadows clouded the green of his eyes. Isabella would not accept it. She insisted that I stay here. He laid her head back against his chest and stroked the hair back from her temple. She is an extraordinary person, such courage. The pain is almost unceasing now. She cannot sleep without laudanum, and always more pain and more laudanum.. It makes me feel so guilty, Blaine, but no matter what, I am glad for the opportunity to be with you. I am taking nothing from her. But that was not true, and she knew it. She lay awake long after he was asleep.

She lay with her ear pressed to his chest and listened to his heart and the slow filling and emptying of his lungs.

When she woke he was dressed in the old pair of khaki shorts and taking down a bamboo fishing rod with an old Scarborough reel from the rack on the wall above the hearth.

Breakfast in twenty minutes, he promised, leaving her cuddled down in the bunk, but he was back before then carrying a gleaming gunmetal and silver fish almost as long as his arm. He arranged it on a grid over the embers and then came to her and pulled the blanket off.

Swim! he grinned sadistically, and she screamed.

You are crazy. It's freezing! I'll die of pneumonia. She protested as wildly all the way down to the deep rock-lined pool in which be dunked her.

The water was clear as air and so cold that when they clambered out their bodies glowed bright pink all over and her nipples were standing out as hard and dark as ripe olives.

But the icy water had honed their appetites and they sprinkled lemon juice on the hot succulent white flesh of the Galjoen and wolfed ic down with chunks of brown bread and salty yellow farm butter.

Satiated at last they sat back and Blaine looked at her. She wore only one of his navy blue roll-necked fisherman's jerseys but the hem reached almost to her knees. She had piled her damp unruly tangle of hair on top of her head and tied it there with a yellow ribbon.

We could go for a walk, he suggested. Or, She thought about that for a few seconds and then decided.

I rather think I'll settle for the or. Your wish, madam, is my command, he replied courteously, and stood over her to lift the heavy jersey off over her head.

In the middle of the morning he lay flat on his back on the bunk while Centaine was propped on an elbow above him, tickling his lips and closed eyelids with a feather that she had plucked from the seam of one of the pillows.

Blaine, she said softly. I am selling Weltevreden. He opened his eyes, caught her wrist and sat up quickly.

Selling? he demanded. Why? I have to, she answered simply. 'The estate, the house and everything in it. But why, my darling? I know how much it means to you.

Why sell it? Yes, Weltevreden means a great deal to me, she agreed But the H'ani Mine means more. If I sell the estate, there is just a chance, a very small chance, that I will be able to save the mine. I didn't know, he said gently. I had no idea things were that bad., How could you know, my love? She caressed his face.

Nobody else does. But I don't understand. The Hlani Mine, surely it is making profits sufficient– No, Blaine. Nobody is buying diamonds nowadays.

Nobody is buying anything any more. This depression, this terrible depression! Our quota has been slashed. The prices we are being paid for our stones are less than half of what they were five years ago. The H'ani Mine is not quite breaking even. It is losing a small amount every month. But if I can hold on until the economy of the world turns around, she broke off. The only chance I have of doing that is by selling Weltevreden. That is all I have left to sell.

That way I might be able to hold on until the middle of next year, and surely this terrible depression must be over by then! Yes, of course it will! he agreed readily, and then after a pause, I have some money, Centaine She laid her fingers on his lips, smiled sadly and shook her head.

He lifted her hand away from his mouth and insisted, If you love me then you must let me help you., Our bargain, Blaine, she reminded him. Nobody else must be hurt. That money belongs to Isabella and the girls. It belongs to me, he said. And if I choose, I Blaine! Blaine! she stopped him. A million pounds might save me now, a million pounds! Do you have that much?

Any lesser amount would be wasted, simply disappear into the bottomless pit of my debts. He shook his head slowly. So much? Then he admitted regretfully, No. I don't have a third part of that, Centaine. Then we will not speak of it again, she told him firmly.

Now show me how to catch crayfish for dinner. I don't want to talk of anything unpleasant for the rest of our time together. There will be plenty of time for ugliness when I get home. on their last afternoon they climbed the slope behind the shack, wading hand in hand through the bright banks of wild blooms. The pollen painted their legs the colour of saffron and the bees rose in noisy swarms as they disturbed them, then resettled as they passed on.

Look, Blaine, see how every flower turns its head to follow the sun as it moves across the sky. I am like one of them, and you are my sun, my love. They wandered along the slope, and Blaine plucked the choicest blooms and plaited them into a crown. He placed it on her head. I crown you Queen of my heart, he intoned, and though he smiled when he said it, his eyes were serious.

They made love lying on the mattress of wild flowers, crushing the stems and leaves beneath them, enveloped in the herby aroma of their juices and the perfume of their blooms, and afterwards Centaine asked him as she lay in his arms, Do you know what I'm going to do? Tell me, he invited, his voice drowsy from their loving.

I'm going to give them something to talk about, she said.

A year from now they may say, "Centaine Courtney went out," but they'll have to add, "but she went out in style." What do you propose? Instead of the usual Christmas high jinks, I'm going to throw a bash to end all bashes! Open house at Weltevreden for a week, champagne and dancing every night. It will also throw the creditors off the scent for a while longer, he grinned at her. But I don't suppose you had thought of that, had you? You devious little vixen. 'That's not the only reason. it will give us an excuse to be together in public. You will be there, won't you? That depends. He was serious again, and they both knew it depended on Isabella, but he did not say it. I'd have to find a pretty good excuse. I'll give you an excuse, she said excitedly. I'll make it a polo week, a twenty-goal tournament. I'll invite teams from all over the country, all the top players. You are the national captain. You could not reasonably refuse, could you? I don't see how, he agreed. Talk about devious! And he shook his head in admiration.

It will give you a chance to meet Shasa. I told you he had been pestering me ever since he heard that I knew you. That I'd enjoy. 'You will have to put up with a bit of hero-worship. You could invite a few junior teams, Blaine suggested.

Give them a tournament of their own. I'd like to watch your son ride. Oh, Blaine! What a wonderful idea! She clapped her hands excitedly. My poor darling. It will probably be Shasa's last chance to ride his own ponies. Of course, I will have to sell them when I sell Weltevreden. The shadows were in her eyes again for a moment, but then she rallied and her eyes sparkled. But as I said, we'll go out in style. Shasa's team, the Weltevreden Invitation, under 16 years, had won through to the final round of the junior league, mostly by virtue of their handicap allowance. Shasa was the only plus player. Of the other three members of the team, two were scratch handicaps and the third was a minus one.

However, they had finally come up against the Natal Juniors, four of the top youngsters, all of them two– and three-goal players except their captain. Max Theunissen had only made the age limit by a few months. He was rated five goals, the best in Africa for his age, with height and weight in the saddle, a good eye and a powerful wrist. He used all these advantages to the full, adopting a hard driving style of play.

Shasa was the next best rated player in the country, at four goals, but he lacked the older boy's weight and strength, Max was backed by his strong team-mates, and all Shasa's skill and determination were not sufficient to prevent his team crumbling under the onslaught, leaving Shasa virtually unaided to try and stern the rout.

in five chukkas Max had pounded in nine goals against Shasa's best efforts in defence, wiping out the Weltevreden team's handicap start, so that on handicap the teams were all square as they came in to change ponies for the last chukka.

Shasa flung himself out of the saddle, his face flushed with exertion and frustration and anger and shouted at his chief groom. 'Abel, you didn't tighten the girth properly. The coloured groom bobbed his head nervously. You checked it, Master Shasa. Don't answer back, man. But he wasn't even looking at Abel. He was glaring across the field at the Natal pony lines where Max Theunissen was surrounded by a cluster of his admirers. I'll ride Tiger Shark for this chukka, he shouted at Abel over his shoulder.

You said Plum Pudding, Abel protested.

And now I say Tiger Shark. Change the saddles and check the bandages on his forelegs. Plum ]Pudding was a small pony, getting a little on in years and round in the middle, but still with an uncanny instinct to judge the run of the ball and set Shasa up for the shot. The two of them had developed a marvelous rapport.

However, as befitted his advancing years, Plum Pudding was becoming cautious. He no longer enjoyed a heavy ride off and flinched from putting his plump shoulder to that of another pony at full gallop.

Shasa had seen that at the other lines Max Theunissen had called for his black stallion, Nemesis. on this pony he had terrorized the junior league over the past four days, riding so cunningly close to foul play that the umpires had difficulty bringing him to book; he had succeeded in frightening most of the young lighter riders off the line even when they had the right of way, and riding off those who had the courage to stand up to him with such sadistic vigour that there had been two or three close calls even one accident, when little Tubby Vermeulen from the Transvaal had been brought down so heavily that he had broken his wrist and dislocated his shoulder.

Come on, Abel, don't just stand there. Get the saddle on Tiger Shark. Tiger Shark was a young bay stallion with only a year's schooling behind him, an ugly animal with a hammer head and immensely powerful shoulders which gave him a hump-backed appearance. His temperament was equally unattractive. He kicked and bit without provocation or warning, was sometimes almost urunanageable, and he had a vicious aggressive streak that seemed to rejoice in the command to barge in for the ride off; he had never yet flinched from heavy contact. In any other circumstance Shasa would have stayed with Plum Pudding, but Max had saddled Nemesis and Shasa could guess what was coming.

The shaft of his stick had cracked in the final seconds of the last chukka and he unwound the strap from his wrist and threw it on the ground and called across to his number two as he went to the wagon for a replacement.

Bunty, you must come up faster and move inside for my cross. Don't keep falling back, man. Shasa broke off, becoming aware of the hectoring tone of his own voice as he realized that Colonel Blaine Malcomess, the national captain and Shasa's particular demi-god, was watching him.

He had come up silently and was now leaning against the rear wheel of the wagon, one ankle crossed over the other, his arms folded over his chest, the wide-brimmed Panama hat canted over one eye and an enigmatic half-smile on his wide mouth. Shasa was sure that it showed disapproval and he tried to smooth over his scowl.

Hello, sir. We're taking a bit of a drubbing, I'm afraid, and he forced a rueful and unconvincing smile. No matter what they taught you at Bishops, he didn't like losing, not one little bit.

Far from being censorious of Shasa's bad temper, Blaine was delighted with it. The will to win was the single most important asset, and not only on the polo ground. He had not been sure that Shasa Courtney had it; for a person of his age he covered up very well.

Offering a beautiful but urbane face to his elders, deferring attentively to them with the oldfashioned manners drummed into him by his mother and his school, and remaining at all times difficult to fathom.

a However, Blaine had been watching him carefully over the last four days. He had seen that Shasa had a strong natural seat on a horse, a marvelous eye and a fluid stroke hinging on a powerful wrist.

He was fearless and full of dash, which often meant he was penalized for cutting across the line and for other dangerous play. But Blaine knew that with experience he would learn to disguise his hard play and not rnake it so apparent to the umpires.

The other requirements for a top international-class player were great stamina, which would come with age, dedicated application and experience. This last item was so vitally important -hat a player only reached the high noon of his career at forty years or later. Blaine himself was only just peaking and could look forward to another ten years at the top.

Blaine had seen Shasa Courtney had promise, and now in thought of him the will to win and his bitter anger at the defeat. He smiled as he remembered his own reply when at that age his father had told him: 'Blaine, you must learn to be a better loser. He had replied from the benefit of all sixteen years Of acquired wisdom, Yes, sir, but I don't intend to get in enough practice to become really good at it. Blaine stifled the smile and spoke softly. Shasa, can we have a word, please? Of course, sir. Shasa hurried to his summons, pulling off his hard cap respectfully.

You're letting Max rattle you, Blaine said quietly. You've been using Your noggin up to now. I n the first four chukkas You held them to four goals, but in the last chukka Max knocked in five. Yes, sir. Shasa scowled again unconsciously.

Think, lad. What has changed? Shasa shook his head and then blinked as it dawned on

him. He's pulling me across onto his offside. Right, Blaine nodded. He's taking you on his strong side.

Nobody has had a go at him from his other side, not once in five days. Change sides with Bunty and come at him on the nearside; come in steeply and barge him hard, just once.

Something tells me young Max isn't going to like his own medicine.

I think only one dose will be necessary. Nobody has yet seen the true colour of Master Theunissen's liver.

My guess is that it has a streak of yellow in it. You mean, foul him, sir? Shasa stared at him wonderingly. All his life he had been coached in the games of young gentlemen. This was the first time he had received this type of advice.

Perish the thought. Blaine winked at him. Let's just learn to be good losers, shall we? They had established this peculiar accord from the moment Centaine had first introduced them. Of course Blaine's reputation had made it easier for him; he had Shasa's respect and admiration before they had even met and, given Blaine's experience as an officer and politician in the art of bending others to his will, it had been a simple matter for him to make the most of his advantage with one so inexperienced and gullible.

Besides that, Blaine had truly and deeply wanted it to be good between them. Not only for the reason that Shasa was the son of the woman he loved, but because the boy was comely and charismatic, because he was quick-witted and had proved himself fearless and dedicated, and because Blaine did not have, and knew he never would have, a son of his own.

Stick with him, Shasa, and play him at his own game, he ended his advice, and Shasa smiled, his face radiant with pleasure and determination.

Thank you, sir. He clapped his hard hat on his head and strode away, the shaft of his mallet over his shoulder, the back of his white breeches stained brown with dubbin from the saddle and the sweat drying in salty white crystals between the shoulders of his bright yellow jersey.

Bunty, we are changing sides, he called, and when Abel led Tiger Shark up, Shasa. punched his shoulder lightly. You are right, you old thunder, I did check the girth myself. He made a show of doing it again, and Abel grinned delightedly when Shasa looked up from the girth buckle and told him, Now you can't blame me again. Without touching the stirrups he swung up onto Tiger Shark's back.

Blaine pushed himself away from the wagon wheel and sauntered back towards the grandstand, his eyes instinctively sweeping the throng for the bright yellow of Centaine's hat.

She was in a circle of males. Blaine recognized Sir Garry Courtney and General Smuts amongst them, together with three other influential men, a banker, a cabinet minister in the Hertzog government and Max Theunissen's father.

A pretty average sort of bunch for Madame Courtney. Blaine winced at the jealous pang he could not harden himself to accept.

Centaine's invitations had been sent out not only to the best players in the country but to all the most influential and important men in every other field: politicians, academics, great landowners and mining magnates, businessmen and newspaper editors, even a few artists and writers.

The chateau of Weltevreden was unable to house them all and she had taken over every room at the neighbouring Alphen Hotel, once also part of the Cloete family estate, to accommodate the overflow. Together with all her local there were well over two hundred from out of town.

guests, She had chartered a special train to bring down the upcountry contingent and their ponies, and for five days the entertainment had been continuous.

junior league polo in the mornings, an al fresco banquet at lunch time, senior polo in the afternoon, followed by an elaborate buffet dinner and all-night dancing.

Half a dozen bands played in relays, providing non-stop music through the days and nights. In between there were cabaret turns and fashion shows, a charity sale of art and rare wines, another sale of yearling thoroughbreds, a concours d'dftance for motor vehicles and lady drivers, a treasure hunt, a fancy-dress evening, tennis, croquet and bridge tournaments, show-jumping, a motor cyclist on a wall of death, Punch and Judy for the children and a team of professional nannies to keep the little ones occupied.

And I am the only one who knows what it is all about. Blaine looked up the stand at her. It's crazy and in a way immoral. It's no longer her money to spend. But I love her for her courage in the midst of misfortune. Centaine sensed him watching and her head turned quickly to him. For a moment they stared at each other, the distance between them not muting the intensity of their gaze, then she turned back to General Smuts and laughed gaily at what he was saying.

Blaine longed to go to her, just to be near to her, just to smell her perfume and listen to that husky voice with its touch of French accent, but instead he strode determinedly across the front of the stand to where Isabella sat in her wheelchair. This was the first day that Isabella had felt strong enough to attend the tournament and Centaine had arranged for a special ramp to be built to allow her wheelchair to reach the first tier of seats in the stand for a view of the field.

Isabella's silver-haired mother sat on one side of her and she was surrounded by four of her close girl friends and their husbands; but her two daughters came streaking down from the stand as soon as they saw Blaine, holding up their skirts to the knees with one hand and cramming their widebrimmed beribboned straw hats onto their heads with the other while they gabbled shrilly for his attention and then hopped along on each side of him, clinging to his hands and dragging him up to his seat beside Isabella.

Dutifully Blaine kissed the pale silky cbeek that Isabella Offered him. The skin was cool, and he caught a whiff of laudanum. on her breath. The pupils of her large eyes were dilated from the drug, giving them a touchingly vulnerable look.

I missed you, darling, she whispered, and it was the truth.

The moment Blaine had left her, she had looked around desperately to find Centaine Courtney, her torment only easing a little when she saw Centaine surrounded by admirers higher in the stand.

I had to chat to the boy, Blaine excused himself. Are you feeling better? Thank you. The laudanum is working now. She smiled up at him, so tragic and brave that he stooped once more and kissed her forehead. Then as he straightened he glanced guiltily in Centaine's direction, hoping that she had not noticed that spontaneous gesture of tenderness; but she was watching him, and she looked away quickly.