Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн регистрации .TXT) 📗
They saw the torches of the search parties down on the plain below them as they turned the shoulder of the mountain. There were headlights on the road also, moving slowly, obviously searching the verges, and faintly they heard the shouts of the searchers, calling for them as they moved about in the forest far below.
My Pa's going to kill me this time. He'll know what we've been doing, she snuffled and sobbed and her self-pity irritated him. He had long ago given up trying to comfort her.
How will he know? he snapped. He wasn't there. You don't think you were the first one I've done it with, she demanded, seeking to injure him. I've done it with plenty of others, and Pa has caught me twice. Oh, he'll know all right., At the thought of her performing those strangely marvelous tricks of hers with others, Shasa felt a hot rush of jealousy which was gradually cooled by reason.
Well! he pointed out. If he knows about all the others, it isn't going to do you much good to try to put the blame on me. She had trapped herself and she let out another brokenhearted sob, and was still weeping theatrically when they met the search party coming on foot along the pipe track.
Shasa and Annalisa. sat on opposite sides of the bungalow's drawing-room, instinctively keeping as far from each other as possible.
As they heard the Daimler pull up outside in a flare of headlights and crunch of gravel, Annalisa began to weep again, snuffling and rubbing her eyes to work up a few more tears.
They heard Centaine's quick light tread across the verandah, followed by Twenty-man-jones more deliberate storklike steps.
Shasa stood up and held his hands in front of him in the attitude of the penitent as Centaine stopped in the doorway.
She was dressed in jodhpurs and riding-boots and a tweed hacking jacket, with a yellow scarf knotted at her throat.
She was flushed, and relieved and furious as an avenging angel.
Annahsa saw her face and let out a howl of anguish, only half acting.
Shut your mouth, girl, Centaine told her quietly. Or I'll see you get good reason to blubber. She turned to Shasa.
Are either of you hurt? No, Mater. He hung his head.
Prester John? Oh, he's in good fettle. So, that's it then. She did not have to elaborate. Dr Twenty-man-Jones, will you take this young lady down to her father? I have no doubt that he will know how to deal with her. Centaine had spoken briefly to the father only an hour before, big and bald and paunchy with tattoos on his muscled arms, belligerent and red-eyed, reeking of cheap brandy and opening and closing his hairy paws as he mouthed his intentions towards his only daughter.
Twenty-man-Jones took the girl by her wrist, pulled her to her feet and led her snivelling towards the door. As he passed Centaine, her expression softened and she touched his arm.
What ever would I do without you, Dr Twenty-man-jones? she asked quietly.
I suspect that you would get along very well on your own, Mrs Courtney, but I'm glad I could help. He dragged Annalisa from the room and they heard the whirr of the Daimler's engine.
Centaine's expression hardened again and she turned back to Shasa.
He fidgeted under her scrutiny.
You've been disobedient, she told him. I warned you away from that little poule. Yes, Mater. She's been with half the men on the mine. We'll have to take you to a doctor when we get back to Windhoek. He shuddered and glanced down at himself involuntarily at the thought of a host of disgusting microbes crawling over his most intimate flesh.
Disobedience is bad enough, but what have you done that is truly unforgivable? she demanded.
Shasa could think of at least a dozen trespasses without really extending himself.
You've been stupid, Centaine said. You've been stupid enough to get caught out. That is the worst sin. You've made a laughing stock of yourself with everybody on the mine.
How will you ever be able to lead and command when you cheapen yourself like this? I didn't think of that, Mater. I didn't think of anything much. It just all sort of happened. Well, think of it now, she told him. While you are taking a long hot bath with half a bottle of Lysol in it, think hard about it. Goodnight. Goodnight, Mater. He came to her and after a moment she offered her cheek. I'm sorry, Mater. He kissed her cheek. I'm sorry I made you ashamed of me. She wanted to throw her arms around him and pull his beautiful beloved head to her and hold him hard and tell him that she would never be ashamed of him.
Goodnight, Shasa, she said, standing cool and erect until he left the room and she heard his footsteps drag disconsolately down the passage. Then her shoulders slumped.
Oh, my darling, oh my baby, she whispered. Suddenly, for the first time in many years, she felt the need for an opiate. She crossed quickly to the massive stinkwood cabinet and poured cognac from one of the heavy decanters and took a mouthful. The spirit was peppery on her tongue and the fumes brought tears to her eyes. She swallowed it down and set the glass aside.
That isn't going to help much, she decided, and crossed to her desk. She sat down in the wingbacked buttoned leather chair and she felt small and frail and vulnerable. For Centaine, it was an alien emotion and it frightened her.
It's happened, she whispered. He is becoming a man. Suddenly she hated the girl. The dirty little harlot. He isn't ready for that yet. Too early she has let the demon out, the demon of his de Thiry blood. She was intimate with that same demon, for it had plagued her all her life. That wild A passionate de Thiry blood.
Oh my darling. She was going to lose some part of him now, had already lost it, she realized. Loneliness came to her like a ravening beast that had lain in ambush for her all these years.
There had only been two men who might have assuaged that loneliness. Shasa's father had died in his frail machine of canvas and wood while she had stood by helplessly and watched him blacken and burn. The other man had placed himself beyond her reach for ever with one brutal senseless act. Michael Courtney and Lothar De La Rey, both dead to her now.
Since then there had been lovers, many lovers, brief transient affairs experienced only at the level of the flesh, a mere antidote for the boil of her blood. None of them had been allowed to pass into that deep place of her soul. But now the beast of loneliness burst through those guarded portals and laid waste her secret places. 1A If only there was someone, she lamented as she had done only once before in her life, when she lay upon the child-bed on which she have given birth to Lothar De La Rey's goldheaded bastard. if only there was somebody I could love and who would love me in return. She leaned forward in the big leather chair and picked up the silver-framed photograph, the photograph that she carried with her wherever she travelled, and studied the face of the young man in the centre of the group of fliers.
For the
first time she realized that over the years the picture had faded and yellowed and the features of Michael Courtney, Shasa's father, had blurred. She stared at the handsome young face and tried desperately to make the picture clearer and crisper in her own memory, but it seemed to smear and recede even further from her.
Oh Michael! she whispered. It was all so long ago. Forgive me. Please forgive me. I have tried to be strong and brave.
I've tried for your sake and the sake of your son, but She set the frame back upon the desk and crossed to the window. She stared out into the darkness. I'm going to lose my baby, she thought. And then one day I will be alone and old and ugly, and I'm afraid. She found she was shivering, hugging her own arms, but then her reaction was swift and unequivocal.
There is no time for weakness and self-pity on the journey that you have chosen. She steeled herself, standing small and erect and alone in the silent darkened house. You have to go on. There is no turning back, no faltering, you have to go on to the end. Where is Stoffel Botha? Shasa demanded of the mill house supervisor when the mine hooter blew to signal the beginning of the lunch hour. Why isn't he here? Who knows? The supervisor shrugged. I had a note from the main office saying he wasn't coming. They didn't tell me why. Perhaps he has been fired. I don't know. I don't care, he was a cocky little bastard, anyway. And for the rest of the shift Shasa tried to suppress his feeling of guilt by concentrating on the run of ore through the thundering rollers.
