Текст книги "The Burning Shore"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

I have just come back from the front. General Courtney went up to take a look for himself. John Pearce politely looked away as she tried to put her hair into place again. He likes to be right up there, still thinks he's fighting the Buer War, the old devil. We got as far as Mort Homme-'That is my village. Not any more, he told her grimly. It's German now, or almost so. The new front line runs just north of it, and the village is under fire. Most of it shot away already you wouldn't recognize it, I'm sure.

Centaine nodded again. My home was shelled and burned down.

I'm sorry. John Pearce went on quickly. Anyway, it looks as though we have stopped them. General Courtney is sure we can hold them at Mort Homme-'Where is the general? Staff meeting at Divisional HQ. He should be back later this evening. Ah, here we are. John Pearce found a monk's cell for them, and had a servant bring them a meal and two buckets of hot water.

once they had eaten, Anna stripped off Centaine's clothes, and then stood her over one of the buckets and sponged her down with hot water.

oh, that feels marvelous. For once there are no squeals, Anna muttered. She used her petticoat to dry Centaine, then slipped a clean shift from the carpet bag over her head and brushed out her hair. The thick dark curls were tangled.

Oh Id, Anna, that hurts! It was too good to last, Anna sighed.

When she had finished, she insisted that Centaine lie on the cot to rest while she bathed herself and washed out their soiled clothes. However, Centaine could not lie still and she sat up and hugged her knees.

Oh darling Anna, I have the most wonderful surprise for you– Anna twisted the thick grey horse-tail of her damp hair up on to her head and looked at Centaine quizzically.

Darling Anna, is it? It must be good news indeed. oh it is, it is! I'm going to have Michel's baby. Anna froze. The blood drained from her ruddy features, leaving them grey with shock, and she stared at Centaine, unable to speak.

It's going to be a boy, I'm sure of it. I can just feel it.

He will be just like Michel! How can you be sure? Anna blurted.

Oh, I am sure. Centaine knelt quickly and pulled up the shift. Look at my tummy, can't you just see, Anna? Her pale smooth stomach was flat as ever, with the neat dimple of the navel its only blemish. Centaine pushed it out strenuously.

Can't you see, Anna, It might even be twins, Michel's father and the general were twins. It may run in the family, think of it, Anna, two like Michel!

No, Anna shook her head, aghast. This is one of your fairy stories. I won't believe that you and that soldier-'Michel isn't a soldier, he's a– Centaine began, but Anna went on, I won't believe that a daughter of the house of de Thiry allowed a common soldier to use her like a kitchen maid. Allowed, Anna! Centaine pulled down her shift angrily. I didn't allow it, I helped him do it. He didn't seem to know what to do, at first, so I helped him, and we worked it out beautifully. Anna clapped both hands over her ears. I don't believe it, I'm not going to listen. Not after I taught you to be a lady, I just won't listen. Then what do you think we were doing at night when I went out to meet him, you know I went out, you and Papa caught me at it, didn't you? My baby! wailed Anna. He took advantage-'Nonsense, Anna, I loved it. I loved every little thing he did to me. Oh no! I won't believe it. Besides, you couldn't possibly know, not so soon. You are teasing old Anna. You are being wicked and cruel."You know how I've been sick in the morning."That doesn't prove– The doctor, Bobby Clarke, the army doctor.

He examined me. He told me. Anna was struck dumb at last, there was no more protests. It was inescapable: the child had been out at night, she had been sick in the morning, and Anna believed implicitly in the infallibility of doctors. Then there was Centaine's strange and unnatural elation in the face of all her adversity, it was inescapable.

It's true, then, she capitulated. Oh, what are we going to do? Oh, the good Lord save us from scandal and disgrace, what are we going to do?

Do, Anna? Centaine laughed at her theatrical lamentations. We are going to have the most beautiful baby boy, or if we are lucky, two of them, and I'm going to need you to help me care for them. You will help me, won't you, Anna? I know nothing about babies, and you know everything. Anna's first shock passed swiftly, and she began to consider not the disgrace and scandal, but the existence of a real live infant; it was over seventeen years since she had experienced that joy. Now, miraculously, she was being promised another infant. Centaine saw the change in her, the first stirrings of maternal passion.

You are going to help me with our baby. You won't leave us, we need you, the baby and ! Anna, promise me, please promise me, and Anna flew to the cot and swept Centaine into her arms and held her with all her strength, and Centaine laughed with joy in her crushing embrace.

It was after dark when John Pearce knocked again at the door of the monk's cell.

The general has returned, Mademoiselle de Thiry. I have told him you are here, and he wishes to speak to you as soon as possible. Centaine followed the aide-de-camp down the cloisters and into the large refectory which had been converted into the regimental operations room. Half a dozen officers were poring over the large-scale map that had been spread over one of the refectory tables. The map was porcupined with coloured pins, and the atmosphere in the room was tense and charged.

As Centaine entered, the officers glanced up at her, but young and pretty girl could not hold their attention even a for more than a few seconds and they returned to their tasks.

On the far side of the room, General Sean Courtney was standing with his back to her. His jacket, resplendent with red tabs and insignia and ribbons, hung over the chair on which he was resting one booted foot. He leaned his elbow on his knee and scowled furiously at the earpiece of a field telephone from which a faint distorted voice quacked at him.

Sean wore a woollen singlet with sweat-stained armpits and marvellously flamboyant embroidered braces, decorated with stags and running hounds, over his shoulders.

He was chewing on an unlit Havana cigar, and suddenly he bellowed into the field telephone without removing the cigar from his mouth.

That is utter horseshit! I was there myself two hours ago. I know! I need at least four more batteries Of 25 pounders in that gap, and I need them before dawn, don't give me excuses, just do it, and tell me when it's done!

He slammed down the hand-set, and saw Centaine.

My dear, his voice altered and he came to her quickly and took her hand. I was worried. The chateau has been completely destroyed. The new front line runs not a mile beyond it– He paused, and studied her for a moment.

What he saw reassured him and he asked, Your father?

She shook her head. He was killed in the shelling. I'm sorry, Sean said simply, and turned to John Pearce. Take Miss de Thiry through to my quarters. Then to her, I will follow you in five minutes. The general's room opened directly into the main refectory, so that with the door open Sean Courtney could lie on his cot and watch everything that went on in his operations room. It was sparsely furnished, just the cot and a desk with two chairs, and his locker at the foot of the cot.

Won't you sit here, Mademoiselle? John Pearce offered her one of the chairs, and while she waited, Centaine glanced round the small room.

The only item of interest was the desk. On it stood a hinged photograph frame, one leaf of which contained the picture of a magnificent mature woman, with dark Jewish beauty. It was inscribed across the bottom corner, Come home safely to your loving wife, Ruth. The second leaf of the frame held the picture of a girl of about Centaine's age. The resemblance to the older woman was apparent, they could only be mother and daughter, but the girl's beauty was marred by a petulant, spoiled expression; the pretty mouth had a hard, acquisitive quirk to it, and Centaine decided that she did not like her very much at all.

My wife and daughter, Sean Courtney said from the doorway. He had put on his jacket and was buttoning it as he came in.

You have eaten? he asked as he sank into the chair opposite Centaine.

Yes, thank you. Centaine stood up and picked up the silver box of Vestas from the desk, struck one and held it for him to light the Havana. He looked surprised, then leaned forward and sucked the flame into the tip of the cigar. When it was well lit, he leaned back in the chair and said, My daughter, Storm, does that for me. Centaine blew out the match, sat down again and waited quietly for him to enjoy the first few puffs of fragrant smoke. He had aged since their last meeting, or perhaps it was only that he was very tired, she thought. When did you last sleep? she asked, and he grinned.

Suddenly, he looked thirty years younger. You sound like my wife."She is very beautiful.

Yes, Sean nodded and glanced at the photograph, then back to Centaine. You have lost everything, he said.

The chateau, my home, and my father She tried to be calm, not let the terrible hurt show.

You have other family, of course. Of course, she agreed. My uncle lives in Lyon, and I have two aunts in Paris. I will arrange for you to travel to Lyon.

No.

Why not? He looked piqued at her abrupt refusal.

I don't want to go to Lyon, or Paris. I am going to Africa. Africa? Now he was taken aback. Africa? Good Lord, why Africa? Because I promised Michel, we promised each other we would go to Africa. But, my dear– He dropped his eyes, and studied the ash of his cigar. She saw the pain that the mention of Michael's name inflicted, she shared it with him for a moment, and then said, You were going to say, "But Michel is dead. He nodded. Yes. His voice was almost a whisper. I promised Michel something else, General. I told him that his son would be born in the sunshine of Africa. Slowly Sean lifted his head and stared at her. Michael's son? His son. You are bearing Michael's child? Yes, All the stupid mundane questions rushed to his lips. Are you sure? How can you be certain? How do I know it's Michael's child? And he bit them back. He had to have time to think to adjust to this incredible twist of fate.

Excuse me. He stood up and limped back into the operations room.

Are we in contact with the third battalion yet? he demanded of the group of officers.

We had them for a minute, then lost them again. They are ready to counter-attack, sir, but they need artillery support. Get on to those damned shell wallahs again, and keep trying to get through to Caithness. He turned to another of his staff. Roger, what is happening to the First? No change, sir.

They have broken two enemy attacks, but they are taking a beating from the German guns.

Colonel Stevens thinks they can hold. Good man! Sean grunted. It was like trying to close the leaks in a dyke holding back the ocean with handfuls of clay, but somehow they were doing it, and every hour they held on was blunting the cutting edge of the German attack.

The guns are the key, if we can get them up soon enough. How is the traffic on the main road? Clearing and moving faster, it seems, sir. If they could move the 25-pounders into the gap before morning, then they could make the enemy pay dearly for their gains. They would have them in a salient, they could hit them from three sides, pound them with artillery.

Sean felt his spirits droop again. This was a war of guns, it all came back in the end to the bloody attrition of the guns. At the front of his mind Sean made the calculations, assessed the risks and the costs and gave the orders, but behind that he was making other calculations. He was thinking of the girl and her claims upon him.

Firstly he had to control his natural reaction to what she had told him, for Sean was a son of Victoria, and he expected all people, but especially his own family, to live by the code that had been set in the previous century. Of course, young men were expected to sow their wild oats – by God, Sean himself had sown them by the barrowload, and he grinned shamefacedly at the memory. But decent young men left decent young girls alone, until after they were married.

I'm shocked, he realized, and smiled again. The officers at the operations table saw the smile and looked puzzled and uneasy. What is the old devil up to now? They exchanged nervous glances.

Have you got hold of Colonel Caithness yet? Sean covered the smile with a ferocious scowl, and they applied themselves diligently to their tasks once more.

I'm shocked, Sean told himself again, still amused at himself but this time keeping his face impassive. And yet Michael himself was your own love-baby, the fruit of one of your escapades. Your first-born– The pain of Michael's death assailed him again, but he drove it back.

Now, the girl. He began to think it out. Is she really pregnant, or is this some elaborate form of blackmail? It did not take him more than a few seconds to decide.

I can't be that wrong in my estimate of her. She truly believes she is pregnant. There were areas of the female anatomy and the feminine mind that were completely alien terrain to Sean. He had learned, however, that when a girl believed she was pregnant, she sure as all hell was.

How she knew escaped him, but he was prepared to accept it. All right, she's pregnant, but is it Michael's child, and not some other young– Again his rejection of the idea was swift. She's a child of a decent family, carefully guarded by her father and that dragon of hers. How she and Michael managed it beats me– He almost grinned again as he recalled how often and how adroitly he had managed it in his youth, against equally fearsome odds. The ingenuity of young love He shook his head. All right, I accept it. It's Michael's child. Michael's son! And only then did he allow the joy to rise in him. Michael's son! Something of Michael still lives on. Then he cautioned himself quickly. Steady on now, don't let's go overboard. She wants to come out to Africa, but what the hell are we going to do with her? I can't take her in at Emoyeni. For a moment the image appeared in his mind of the beautiful home on the hill, The place of the wind in Zulu, which he had built for his wife. The longing to be back there with her came powerfully upon him.

He had to fight it off and apply himself to the immediate problems again.

Three of them, three pretty girls, all of them proud and strong-willed, living in the same house. Instinctively he knew that this little French girl and his own beloved but lovingly indulged daughter would fight like two wild cats in a sack. He shook his head. By God, that would be the perfect recipe for disaster, and I wouldn't be there to turn them over my knee. I've got to come up with thing better than that. What in the name of all that is holy do we do with this pregnant little filly? Sir! Sir! one of his officers called, and offered Sean the head-set of the field telephone. I've got through to Colonel Caithness at last. Sean snatched the set from him. Douglas!

He barked into it. The line was bad, the background hissed and rushed like the sea, so Douglas Caithness's voice seemed to come from across an ocean.

Hello, sir, the guns have just come up-'Thank God, Sean growled.

I have deployed them– Caithness gave the map reference. They are hammering away already and the Huns seem to have run out of steam. I am going to raid them at dawn.

Douglas, be careful, there are no reserves behind you, I won't be able to support you before noon All right, I understand, but we can't let them regroup unopposed. Of course not, Sean agreed. Keep me informed. In the meantime I'm moving up four more batteries, and elements of the Second Battalion, but they won't reach you before noon. Thank you, sir, we can use them. Go to it, man.

Sean handed the instrument back, and while he watched the coloured pins rearranged on the map, the solution to his personal problem came to him.

Garry– He thought of his twin brother, and felt the familiar twinge of guilt and compassion. Garrick Courtney, the brother whom Sean had crippled.

It had happened so many years ago and yet every instant of that dreadful day was still so clear in Sean's mind that it might have taken place that very morning. The two of them, teenage scamps, arguing over the shotgun that they had stolen out of their father's gunroom and loaded with buckshot, as they trotted through the golden grass of the Zululand hills.

i saw the inkonka first, Garry protested. They were going out to hunt an old bushbuck ram whose lair they had discovered the previous day.

I thought of the shotgun, Sean told him, tightening his grip on the weapon, so I do the shooting. And, of course, Sean prevailed. It was always that way.

It was Garry who took Tinker, their mongrel hunting dog, and circled out along the edge of thick bush to drive the antelope back where Sean waited with the shotgun.

Sean heard again Garry's faint shouts at the bottom of the hill, and Tinker's frantic barks as he picked up the scent of the wary bushbuck. Then the rush in the grass, and the long yellow stems bursting open as the inkonka came out, heading straight up to where Sean lay on the crest of the hill.

He looked immense in the sunlight, for in alarm his shaggy mane was erected and his dark head with the heavy spiral horns was raised high on the thick powerful neck. He stood three foot high at the shoulder and weighed almost two hundred pounds, and his chest and flanks were barred and spotted with delicate patterns, pale as chalk on the dark rufous ground. He was a magnificent creature, quick and formidable, those horns were sharp as pikes and could rip the belly out of a man or slice through his femoral artery, and he came straight at Sean.

Sean fired the choke barrel, and he was so close that the charge of buckshot struck in a solid blast, and tore through the animal's barrel chest into lung and heart.

The bushbuck screamed and went down, kicking and bleating, its sharp black hooves clashing on the rocky ground as it slid back down the hill.

I got him! howled Sean, leaping from his hiding place. I got him first shot. Garry! I got him! From below Garry and the dog came pelting through the coarse golden grass. It was a race as to which of them could get to the dying animal first. Sean carried the shotgun, the second barrel still loaded, and the hammer at full cock, and as he ran a loose stone rolled under his foot and he fell. The gun flew from his grip. He hit the ground with his shoulder and the second barrel fired with a stunning thump of sound.

When Sean scrambled up again, Garry was sitting beside the dead bushbuck, whimpering. His leg had taken the full charge of buckshot at almost point blank range.

it had hit him below the knee, and the flesh was wet red ribbons, the bone white chips and slivers and the blood a bright fountain in the sunlight.

Poor Garry, Sean thought, now a lonely one-legged old cripple. The woman whom Sean had put with child, and whom Garry had married before she gave birth to Michael, had finally been driven insane by her own hatred and bitterness and died in the flames she herself had set.

Now Michael, too, was gone, and Garry had nothing nothing except his books and his scribblings.

I'll send him this bright pert girl and her unborn infant. The solution came to Sean with a flood of relief. At last I can make some retribution for all I have done to him. I will send him my own grandchild, the grandchild I should so dearly love to claim as my own; I'll send to him in part payment. He turned from the map and limped quickly back to where the girl waited.

She rose to meet him and stood quietly, her hands clasped demurely in front of her, and Sean saw the worry and fear of rejection in her dark eyes, and the way her lower lip trembled as she waited for his judgment.

He closed the door behind him, and he went to her and took her small neat hands in his great hairy paws and he stooped over her and kissed her gently. His beard scratched her soft cheek, but she sobbed with relief and flung both arms around him.

I'm sorry, my dear, he said. You took me by surprise.

I just had to get used to the idea. Sean hugged her, but very gently, for the mystery of pregnancy was one of the very few things that daunted and awed Sean Courtney.

Then he settled her back in the chair.

Can I go to Africa? She was smiling, though the tears still trembled in the corners of her eyes.

Yes, of course, that's your home now, for as far as I am concerned, you are Michael's wife. Africa is where you belong. I'm so happy, she told him softly, but it was more than merc happiness. It was a vast sense of security and protection, this man's aura of power and strength was now held over her like a shield.

You are Michael's wife, he had said. He had acknowledged that which she herself believed, somehow his endorsement made it a fact.

This is what I am going to do. The German U-boats have been playing such havoc. A sailing for you on one of the Red Cross hospital ships that leave directly from the French Channel ports will be the safest way of getting you home. Anna– Centaine cut in quickly.

Yes, of course, she must go with you. I'll fix that also.

You will both volunteer for nursing duties, and I'm afraid you'll be expected to work your passage. Centaine nodded eagerly.

Michael's father, my brother, Garrick Courtney-Sean started.

yes, yes! Michel told me all about him. He is a great hero, he won the cross of the English Queen Victoria for his courage in a battle against the Zulus, Centaine cut in excitedly, and he is a scholar who writes books of history. Sean blinked at the description of poor Garry, but of course it was factually correct and he nodded.

He is also a kind and gentle person, a widower who has just lost his only son– An almost telepathic understanding passed between them; although Centaine knew the truth, from now on Michael would always be referred to as Garrick Courtney's son. Michael was his whole life, and you and I know how he must feel at the loss, for we share it. Centaine's eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she bit down on her lower lip as she nodded vehemently.

I will cable him. He will be at Cape Town to meet you when the ship docks. I will also give you a letter to take to him. You can be certain of his welcome and his protection, for both you and Michael's child. Michael's son, said Centaine firmly, and then hesitantly, but I will see you also, General, sometimes? Often, Sean assured her, leaning forward to pat her hand gently. Probably more often than you wish.

After that it all happened very quickly; she would learn that with Sean Courtney, this was always the way.

She remained only five more days at the monastery, but in that time the German breakthrough at Mort Homme was contained by dour bloody fighting, and once the line was stabilized and reinforced, Sean Courtney had a few hours each day to spare for her.

They dined together every evening, and he answererd her endless questions about Africa and its people and animals, about the Courtney family and its members, with good-natured patience. Mostly they spoke English, but when at a loss for a word, Centaine lapsed into Flemish again.

Then at the end of the meal she would prepare his cigar and light it for him, pour his cognac and then perch beside him, talking still, until Anna came to fetch her or Sean was summoned to the operations room; then she would come to him and hold up her face for his kiss with such a childlike innocence, that Sean found himself dreading the approaching hour of her departure.

John Pearce brought their nursing uniforms to Centaine and Anna. The white veils and the white cross-straps of the apron were worn over a blue-grey dress and Centaine and Anna made the finer adjustments themselves, their needles giving a touch of French flair to the baggy shapeless outfits.

Then it was time to leave, and Sangane loaded their meagre baggage into the Rolls, and Sean Courtney came down the cloisters, gruff and stern with the pain of leavetaking.

Look after her, he ordered Anna, and Anna glowered at him in righteous indignation at this gratuitous advice.

I will be at the docks to meet you when you come home, Centaine promised him, and Sean scowled with embarrassment and pleasure when she went up on tiptoe to kiss him in front of his staff. He watched the Rolls Pull away with the girl waving at him through the back window, then roused himself and rounded on his staff.

Well, gentlemen, what are we all gawking at, we're fighting a war here, not conducting a bloody Sundayschool picnic.

And he stomped back down the cloisters, angry at himself for already feeling the girl's absence so painfully.

The Protea Castle had been a mailship of the Union Castle Line. She was a fast three-funnel passenger liner which had operated on the Cape to Southampton run before being converted to a hospital ship and repainted pristine white with scarlet crosses on her sides and funnels.

She lay at the dock of the inner harbour of Calais, taking on her passengers for the southward voyage, and they were a far cry from the elegant affluent travellers who had filled her pre-war lists. Five railway coaches had been shunted on to the rail spur of the wharf, and from these the pathetic stream of humanity crossed to the liner and went up her fore and aft gangways.

These were the veritable sweepings of the battlefield.

They had been rejected by the medical board as so incapacitated that they could not even be patched up sufficiently to feed the man-hungry Baal of the British Expeditionary Force.

There would be twelve hundred on board for the southbound voyage, and on the return northbound leg the Protea Castle would be repainted in the camouflage of an ordinary troopship and bring another load of young eager and healthy young men for a sojourn in the hell of the trenches of northern France.

Centaine stood beside the Rolls at the wharfside and stared with dismay at this ruined legion as they went aboard. There were the amputees, missing an arm or a leg, the lucky ones with the severance below knee or elbow. They swung across the wharf on their crutches, or with an empty sleeve of their tunic pinned up neatly.

Then there were the blind, led by their companions, and the spinal cases carted aboard on their stretchers, and the gas victims with the mucous membranes of their noses and throats burned away by the chlorine gas, and the shell-shocked who twitched and jerked and rolled their eyes uncontrollably, and the burn victims with monstrous pink shiny scar tissue that had contracted to trap their limbs into the bent position, or drawn down their ravaged heads on to their chests, so that they were as twisted and contorted as hunchbacks.

You can give us a hand here, luv. one of the orderlies had spotted her uniform, and Centaine roused herself.

She turned quickly to the Zulu driver. I will find your father, Mbejane?

Mbejane! Sangane grinned happily that she had the name right. And I will give him your message. Go in peace, little lady.

Centaine clasped his hand, then snatched her carpet bag from him and, followed by Anna, hurried to her new duties.

The loading went on through the night, and only when it was completed a little before dawn were they free to try and find the quarters that they had been allocated.

The senior medical officer was a grim-faced major, and it was apparent that word had been whispered to him from on high.

Where have you been? he demanded when Centaine reported to his cabin. I have been expecting you since noon yesterday. We sail in two hours. I have been here since noon down on "C" Deck, helping Doctor Solomon. You should have reported to me, he told her coldly. You can't just wander around the ship suiting yourself.

I am responsible to General – he cut himself off, and went off on a new tack. Besides, "C" Deck is other ranks."Pardon?

Through practice, Centaine's English had improved immeasurably, but many terms still eluded her.

Other ranks, not officers. From now on you will be working with officers only. The lower decks are out of bounds to you, out of bounds, he repeated slowly, as though speaking to a backward child. Am I making myself clear to you? Centaine was tired, and not used to this type of treatment. Those men down there hurt just as much as the officers do, she told him furiously. They bleed and die just like officers do. The major blinked and sat back in his chair.

He had a daughter the same age as this French chippy, but she would never have dared answer him like that.

I can see, young lady, that you are going to be a handful, he said ominously. I did not like the idea of having you ladies on board, I knew it would lead to trouble.

Now you listen to me. You are going to be quartered in the cabin right across from mine, he pointed through the open door. You will report to Doctor Stewart and work to his orders. You will eat in the officers mess, and the lower decks are out of bounds to you. I expect you to conduct yourself with the utmost propriety at all times, and you can be certain that I will be keeping a very sharp eye on you. After such a bleak introduction, the quarters that she and Anna had been allocated came as a delightful surprise, and again she suspected that the hand of General Sean Courtney had moved. They had a suite that would have cost 20o guineas before the war, twin beds rather than bunks, a small drawing-room with sofa and armchairs and writing-desk, and their own shower and toilet, all tastefully furnished in autumn shades.

Centaine bounced on the bed and then fell back on the pillows and sighed blissfully.

Anna, I am too tired to undress. Into your nightdress, Anna ordered.

And don't forget to clean your teeth. They were wakened by the alarm gongs ringing, the blast of whistles in the companionway and a hammering on the cabin door. The ship was under way, vibrating to her engines and working to the scend of the sea.