Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .txt) 📗
feet were huge, her fingers clustered with rings and semi-precious
stones and her toenails through the open sandals were painted a glaring
crimson, as if to flaunt their size. She stood as tall as David but the
tent-like dress that billowed about her was covered with great explosive
designs that enhanced her bulk until she seemed to make up two of him.
She wore a wig of tiered curls, flaming red in colour and dangling gold
earrings.
It seemed she must have applied her eye make-up with a spade, and her
rouge with a spray gun. She removed the thin black cheroot from her
mouth and kissed Debra before she turned to study David. Her voice was
gravelly, hoarse with cheroot smoke and brandy.
I had not expected you to be so beautiful she said, and Debra quailed at
the expression in David's eyes. I do not like beauty. It is so often
deceptive, or inconsequential. It usually hides something deadly, like
the glittering beauty of the cobra, or like the pretty wrapper of a
candy bar, it contains cloying sweetness and a soft centre. She shook
the stiffly lacquered curls of her wig, and fixed David with her shrewd
little eyes. No, I prefer ugliness to beauty.
David smiled at her with all his charms upon display. Yes, he agreed,
having met you, and seen some of your work, I can understand that.
She let out a cackle of raucous laughter, and clapped the cheroot back
in her mouth. Well now, at the very least we are not dealing with a
chocolate soldier. She placed a huge masculine arm about David's
shoulders and led him to meet the company.
They were a mixed dozen, all intellectuals, artists, writers, teachers,
journalists, and David was content to sit beside Debra in the mild
sunshine and enjoy the beer and the amusing conversation. However, Ella
would not let him relax for long and when they sat down to the
gargantuan alfresco meal of cold fish and poultry, she attacked him
again.
Your martial airs and affectations, your pomp and finery. A plague on
it I say, a pox on your patriotism, and courage, on your fearlessness
and your orders of chivalry. It is all sham and pretence, an excuse for
you to stink up the earth with piles of carrion.
I wonder if you will feel the same when a platoon of Syrian infantry
break in here to rape you, David challenged her.
My boy, I find it so difficult to get laid these days that I should pray
for such a heaven-sent opportunity. She let out a mighty hoot of
laughter and her wig slipped forward at an abandoned angle. Nothing was
safe from her, and she pushed the wig back into place and streamed
straight into the attack again.
Your male bombast, your selfish arrogance. To you this woman- and she
indicated Debra with a turkey leg, to you she is merely a receptacle for
your seething careless sperm. It matters not to you that she is a
promise for the future, that within her are the seeds of a great writing
talent. No, to you she is a rubbing block, a convenient means to a
Debra interrupted her. That definitely is enough, I will not allow a
public debate on my bedroom, and Ella turned towards her with the battle
lust lighting her eyes.
Your gift is not yours to use as you wish. You hold it in trust for all
mankind, and you have a duty to them.
That duty is to exercise your gift, to allow it to grow and blossom and
give forth fruit. She used the turkey leg like a judge's gavel, banging
the edge of her plate with it, to silence Debra's protests.
Have you written a word since you took young Mars to your heart? What
of the novel we discussed on this very terrace a year ago? Have your
animal passions swamped all else? Has the screeching of your ovaries
Stop it, Ella! Debra was angry now, her cheeks flushed and her brown
eyes snapping.
Yes! Yes! Ella tossed the bone aside and sucked her fingers noisily.
Ashamed you should be, angry with yourself - Damn you, Debra flared at
her.
Damn me if you will, but you are damned yourself if you do not write!
Write, woman, write! She sat back and the wicker chair protested at the
movement of her vast body. All right, now we will all go for a swim.
David had not seen me in a bikini yet, much he will care for that skinny
little wench when he does! They drove back to Jerusalem in the night,
flushed with the sun, and although the Mercedes seats had not been
designed for lovers, Debra managed to sit close up against him.
She's right, you know, David broke a long contented silence. You must
write, Debs. 'Oh, I will, she answered lightly.
When? he persisted, and to distract him she snuggled a little closer.
One of these days, she whispered as she made her dark head comfortable
on his shoulder. One of these days, he mimicked her. Don't bug me,
Morgan. She was already half-asleep.
Stop being evasive. He stroked her hair with his free hand. And don't
go to sleep while I'm talking to you.
David, my darling, we have a lifetime, and more, she murmured. You have
made me immortal. You and I shall live for a thousand years, and there
will be time for everything. Perhaps the dark gods heard her boast, and
they chuckled sardonically and nudged each other.
On Saturday Joe and Hannah came to the house on Malik Street, and after
lunch they decided on a tourist excursion for David and the four of them
climbed Mount Zion across the valley. They entered the labyrinth of
corridors that led to David's tomb, covered with splendid embroidered
cloth and silver crowns and Torah covers. From there it was a few steps
to the room of Christ's last supper in the same building, so closely
interwoven were the traditions of Judaism and Christianity in this
citadel.
Afterwards they entered the old city through the Zion gate and followed
the wall around to the centre of Judaism, the tall cliff of massive
stone blocks, bevelled in the fashion of Herodian times, which was all
that remained of the fabulous second temple of Herod, destroyed two
thousand years before by the Romans.
They were searched at the gate and then joined the stream of worshippers
flocking down towards the wall.
At the barrier they stood for a long time in silence.
David felt again the stirring of a deep race memory, a hollow feeling of
the soul which longed to be filled.
The men prayed facing the wall, many of them in the long black coats of
the Orthodox Jew with the ringlets dangling against their cheeks as they
rocked and swayed in religious ecstasy. Within the enclosure of the
right hand side, the women seemed more reserved in their devotions.
Joe spoke at last, a little embarrassed and in a gruff tone. I think
I'll just go say a shma. Yes, Hannah agreed. Are you coming with me,
Debra?
A moment. Debra turned to David, and took something from her handbag.
I made it for you for the wedding, she said. But wear it now. It was a
yamulka, an embroidered prayer cap of black satin.
Go with Joe, she said. He will show you what to do. The girls moved
off to the women's enclosure and David placed the cap upon his head and
followed Joe down to the wall.
A shamash came to them, an old man with a long silver beard, and he
helped David bind upon his right arm a tiny leather box containing a
portion of the Torah.
So you shall lay these words upon your heart and your soul, and you
shall bind them upon your right arm Then he spread a tollit across
David's shoulders, a tasselled shawl of woven wool, and he led him to
