Country of the Falcon

by Anne Mather

  ‘I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with Rosina,’ remarked Declan, waiting for her to mount before swinging himself up on to the back of a broad black stallion. ‘She’s a gentle creature. My sisters have ridden her without any trouble, and one of them is about your age.’

  Alexandra looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, and then, with a convulsive swallow, she put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself into the mare’s saddle. Rosina moved a little protestingly but then was still, and quivering, Alexandra said: ‘I—I’m ready.’

  Declan’s dark brows had drawn closer together, but he said nothing, merely mounted his own animal and asked the stable boy to restrain the dogs and open the gate in the fence. They emerged on to the mountainside, just above the house, where stubbly trees strove to survive, and the rushing waters of the ravine were that much louder.

  For a moment Alexandra forgot her fears in the pure delight of the view that now confronted her. The sparse undergrowth fell away to the rim of the chasm, sun-shadowed, the rocks all shades from pale green, and blue, to deepest purple. Beyond the ravine the forest rose up again towards the cloudless sky, the sun a metallic blur as it crept towards its zenith.

  Declan allowed her a moment to just sit and absorb, and then he turned his horse and began to move away. Rosina followed him, and Alexandra tightened the knot of her broad-brimmed hat with one hand and held tightly to the reins with the other. She was sweating already, but it was more from fear than anything else. She hoped the placid Rosina could not sense the puny cowardice of the girl on her back.

  They were following a path which seemed to be leading down towards the brink of the ravine, and Alexandra’s throat felt dry. Even the most undemanding of steeds required some sort of control and she knew that if Rosina panicked so would she.

  Declan half turned in his saddle at that moment, looking back at her, one leg draped around his pommel to make the action more comfortable. ‘Are you all right?’ he enquired, and she nodded urgently, not wanting him to notice how pale she must be looking.

  He shrugged and turned round again, calling: ‘Don’t worry. We’re not taking the track down the ravine—not today anyway. We follow this path down for a short way, and then it takes us up and over that bluff—can you see?’

  He pointed ahead, and Alexandra nodded. But then realising he could not see her gesture of acquiescence, she managed to call: ‘Yes, I can see.’

  Casting another strange glance back at her, Declan adjusted his posture as the black began the steep descent to where the path forked. Following him, Alexandra was amazed that the horses did not slip or slide on the rocky surface, but obviously they were used to going this way and needed little encouragement. Alexandra closed her eyes. The sight of the ravine on her left and the possibilities imaginable if Rosina should miss her footing did not bear thinking about.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Declan’s harsh voice broke into her silent prayers, and she opened her eyes to find that he had stopped at the fork and was looking back at her angrily.

  ‘I—I was nervous—of the ravine,’ she stammered.

  ‘Haven’t you the sense to know that on paths like these a rider needs to keep all his wits about him? What if Rosina lost her footing?’

  Alexandra tensed. ‘What if she did? What could I do about it?’

  ‘Well, if you don’t know then you shouldn’t be on a bloody horse!’ he swore angrily.

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t at that!’ she retorted.

  Declan’s face darkened. ‘I’ll take you back—’

  ‘No!’ Alexandra was contrite. ‘No—please!’ In spite of her fears she wanted to go on. ‘I’m sorry, I was—stupid. I won’t do it again.’

  ‘Won’t you?’ Declan glared at her. ‘How can I believe you?’

  Alexandra hunched her shoulders frustratedly. ‘What do you want me to say and I’ll say it!’ she exclaimed, and was chilled by the sudden cold anger in his eyes. All at once she remembered what Clare Forman had said about a certain ruthlessness he possessed. Looking at him now she could believe it.

  He made no answer but swung his horse up the track that led over the bluff, leaving her to follow him or go back alone. The black moved swiftly up the slope and Alexandra was forced, much against her better judgement, to spur Rosina on to keep up with him.

  But beyond the bluff, the panorama made her draw swiftly on the reins, bringing the mare to an abrupt halt. Miles and miles of undulating country was spread out before her, miles of forests and rocky scrubland, ragged hills and mountainous peaks. Here and there the sun glinted on stretches of water, lakes caught in the folds of the landscape like jewels in green velvet. Overhead, wheeling and gliding, swept a group of falcons whose habitat this high valley must be.

  Declan looked back and saw the enchanted expression on her face and as though relenting his earlier anger, he rode back to her. ‘Well?’ he challenged. ‘Was it worth the effort?’

  Alexandra moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘I never dreamed—we seemed so remote!’

  ‘Make no mistake,’ remarked Declan dryly, ‘we are! Don’t let the beauty of the valley blind you to that fact. There is no civilisation here as you know it. But the soil is good, and the crops grow. These people are lucky.’

  ‘People?’ Alexandra was confused. ‘But where are the people?’

  ‘You’ll see them.’ Declan pointed ahead. ‘The trees hide the villages very successfully. But they’re there. These people used to live much deeper into the jungle, nearer the river, but gradually they’ve made their way up here. They’re a mixture of Indians and caboclos, half Christian, half pagan.’

  ‘Caboclos? What are they?’

  ‘Half Indian, half Portuguese,’ replied Declan laconically. ‘Like my father!’

  If he had intended to shock her, she refused to be shocked. All the same, some three-quarters of an hour later, when they descended between trees to a village which lay on the banks of a narrow stream, she couldn’t help but contrast his sophistication with the primitiveness of this settlement.

  She was hot now, very hot. The sun was almost completely overhead, and her clothes were clinging to her. Their journey had taken them along a narrow ridge, exposed to the heat of the sun, and only now as they plunged among trees did she appreciate why the Indians built their homes in the shade.

  Declan was welcomed enthusiastically. Children ran to grasp his bridle, chattering excitedly until they saw Alexandra and then they fell back to hide shyly behind their mothers. Alexandra herself was relieved to see that the men were decently covered, and as she was gradually growing used to seeing the women she could at least control the colour that was apt to flood her cheeks.

  Declan stopped beside an elderly man, probably the headman of the village, Alexandra decided, and dismounted. They greeted one another warmly, shaking hands, and then Declan indicated that Alexandra should dismount also. Their arrival had aroused a certain amount of curiosity and Alexandra was aware that she was the focal point.

  She climbed down rather awkwardly, afraid that Rosina might shy unexpectedly and overbalance her. But she accomplished the feat without incident and was startled when Declan grasped her wrist in a firm hold and drew her forward.

  ‘This is Tempest’s daughter,’ he said to the old man, speaking English very slowly. ‘You remember Tempest?’

  The old man nodded, his eyes on the girl. He was a terrifying figure to someone as unused to these people as Alexandra, and she had to force herself not to flinch when he reached out a horny hand and touched the softness of her hair.

  ‘Tempest’s daughter,’ he said, in guttural tones. ‘I remember.’

  He was very thin. The skin clung to his rib-cage, and his limbs were skeletal. But it was his face which horrified her most. A hideous mask of tattooing covered his cheekbones, and his nostrils were elongated as if they had been torn by some animal. She realised now why Declan was keeping his hold on her wrist. Without his silent insistence she might easi
ly have drawn back.

  Declan looked at her. ‘Rubez,’ he said, by way of an introduction. ‘Once chief of the Ayala tribe.’

  Alexandra bit her lip. Was she expected to say something? ‘How—how do you do?’ she managed unevenly. ‘You—you know my father?’

  The old man smiled, at least she assumed the grotesque twisting of his lips was a smile. He nodded again. ‘Tempest,’ he said. ‘The medicine man.’

  ‘Medicine man?’ Alexandra looked blankly at Declan.

  His eyes adjured her not to argue. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘The medicine man.’

  The introductions were over and Rubez summoned the women. A group of three approached shyly, and he directed that Alexandra should go with them. Alexandra cast a protesting look in Declan’s direction, but he made no move to help her, his expression vaguely impatient. She realised that this was expected of her and yet she still felt resentful. He must know that she was on edge and nervous and yet he offered no assistance. Instead, he walked away with the elderly tribesman towards a hut set apart from the others.

  The women took charge of Alexandra. Giggling and chattering together, they coaxed her with them to a larger hut, a sort of communal living room, she guessed. There were hammocks slung in rows along the walls and domestic animals wandered in and out at will. The women indicated that Alexandra should sit down on the rush mats on the floor and presently an enormous iron cooking pot was produced containing a stew very much like the one Consuelo had been preparing the night before. She was passed an earthenware bowl and some of the stew was ladled into it. Obviously she was expected to share their simple meal, and with some misgivings she raised the bowl to her lips.

  Apart from the fact that it was very spicy, and burned her mouth, it was not at all bad, and she managed to smile and by means of gesticulation express her enjoyment. The women smiled in return, and moved closer, clearly fascinated by the long swathe of corn-coloured hair and her fair skin. Alexandra steeled herself not to feel alarm at the press of humanity that surrounded her, but the heat of their bodies was almost overwhelming in the confinement of the hut.

  She was on the point of scrambling to her feet and making an ungainly exit when Declan and the chief reappeared in the open doorway. She was desperately glad to see them, and her relief must have shown in her face. The women noticed and nodded and pointed at Declan, almost as though they imagined there to be something between them. And when Alexandra saw the wry twist to Declan’s mouth she guessed she wasn’t far wrong.

  But at least she was allowed to stand up, and she crossed the room to his side on rather unsteady legs. She had the sense not to say how relieved she was to see him, and he said something to the women which obviously delighted them.

  It was wonderful to emerge into the sunlight again, although the heat made Alexandra feel weak. Declan was bidding their host goodbye, and wiping the sweat from her forehead she slid her hat back on to her head. Her shirt was clinging to her and she pulled the material away from her skin, conscious of the way the cloth outlined her rounded breasts. The horses were brought for them and Declan put the pack containing his medical equipment in his saddlebag. Alexandra mounted the mare almost eagerly, unutterably relieved to be on their way again.

  They rode south out of the village, the opposite way from when they came in. She hoped that didn’t mean they would be returning this way later in the day. They followed a track beside the stream where flowers grew in clusters, pink and lilac and palest blue, the lazy droning of the insects hanging heavily in the languid air.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she ventured at last when the village had dropped far behind. ‘It’s so hot!’

  Declan glanced back at her. ‘Would you like to rest for a while?’

  ‘Could we?’

  ‘You were supposed to have rested in the village.’

  ‘What? I was scrutinised like an insect under a microscope!’

  He raised dark eyebrows. ‘Only by the women,’ he conceded.

  ‘Only!’

  ‘You’d have liked it less if Rubez had offered you to his tribesmen.’

  Alexandra was silent for a while. ‘Was that likely?’ she asked at last, in a small voice.

  Declan half smiled. ‘No. No, it was not. However, it is customary for an Indian to offer his wife to a passing traveller.’

  Alexandra gasped, ‘You mean—you—you—–’

  Declan’s expression hardened. ‘No, I do not mean that at all. My God, what a sordid little mind you’ve got!’

  Alexandra coloured hotly. ‘I only meant—–’

  ‘I know what you meant!’

  Declan swung round and ignored her protests. He spurred the black into a canter and she was soon left far behind. Sweat was pouring out of her as she dug her heels into Rosina’s sides in an effort to speed the mare up, but Rosina seemed unwilling to hurry. Behind her dark glasses, Alexandra’s eyes felt hot and gritty, and a dull ache was beginning near her temples.

  Then, without warning, a snake uncurled from behind a rock in front of them, darting across their path with a curious chattering sound. Alexandra was petrified. She guessed it was a rattlesnake and its bite was deadly to both horse and man. Rosina realised it too, and with a startled whinny, she reared on her hind legs, almost unseating her rider. But Alexandra clung on desperately, a scream escaping from her lips as the snake coiled ready to spring.

  Rosina was out of control now. She sensed Alexandra’s panic and that added to her own was enough to send her wild with frenzy. She turned and ploughed across the stream, stumbling on the stones, soaking Alexandra in the process. Not that she cared. She was too busy hanging on for dear life. She thought she could hear Declan shouting her name, but she couldn’t be sure, and besides, beyond the stream there were rocky outcrops with only goat paths to follow, and Rosina was thundering towards them, apparently uncaring of her own limitations.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FORTUNATELY perhaps for Alexandra, she was thrown before Rosina reached the rocks, and she fell heavily on to the scrubby turf, winded but not unconscious. She lay there for several minutes with her eyes closed, scarcely able to believe that her headlong flight was over, and then blinked in surprise when Declan came galloping up to her and leapt from his horse beside her. He dropped down on to his knees, supporting her head with his arm, and asked huskily: ‘Dear heaven, are you all right?’

  Alexandra swallowed with difficulty, deeply disturbed by the concern in his blue eyes. ‘Y-yes,’ she stammered, ‘I’m fine.’ She raised a hand to shade her eyes. Her glasses must have been lost in the fall. ‘It was the rattlesnake. Rosina …’

  ‘Rosina will be okay. I’ll go after her in a few minutes. She panicked. I saw it all.’ Declan’s voice roughened. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt, Alexandra?’

  Alexandra tried to struggle into a sitting position, but her head was throbbing quite badly now and she winced.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded, his intent eyes raking her slender form. ‘You are hurt!’

  ‘No.’ She managed to sit up without his support. She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, hiding an awful sense of emotionalism. ‘I—I’ve got a headache, that’s all.’

  Declan sat back on his heels, surveying her silently for a minute, and then he got to his feet. He went to his horse and took a bottle of tablets out of the saddlebag.

  ‘Here,’ he said, holding out two. ‘Can you take them without water, or would you like a drink?’

  ‘A drink?’ Alexandra licked her lips. ‘Do you have something?’

  ‘Only beer, I’m afraid. Will that do?’

  She nodded eagerly. ‘Oh, yes. I’m—parched.’

  The warm beer had never tasted so good and while she drank Declan whistled back the frightened mare. She came slowly, encouraged by the sound of his voice, and Declan fastened her reins to those of the black. Then he collected Alexandra’s thrown hat and glasses, grimacing when he found the lenses smashed.

  ‘I think we’ll rest for
a while before going on,’ he said, coming back to her. ‘But not here. It’s shadier on the other side of the stream.’

  Alexandra shuddered. ‘The rattlesnake—–’

  ‘—will be long gone. Besides, I’m not suggesting we stay near the rocks. A few yards further on there’s a small pool. It will be cooler there.’ He stood looking down at her. ‘Can you mount the mare or would you rather walk?’

  Alexandra sighed, looking warily at Rosina. ‘I think I’d rather walk.’

  ‘Okay.’ Declan gathered the black’s reins. ‘You’re sure you can make it?’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Alexandra refused to let him see how shaken she was. She got to her feet, brushing herself down, and as she did so she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. She caught her breath, turning away so that he should not notice, and Declan nodded towards the stream.

  ‘Come on. It’s shallow enough, fortunately. We can cross just over here. Your legs are pretty wet already.’

  Alexandra couldn’t prevent a shudder as they climbed the bank on the other side of the stream, but there was no sign now of the rattler. The sun was beating down unmercifully as they delved deeper into the trees and finally came upon the pool Declan had mentioned. Fern-fringed and placid, it looked very inviting, huge lotus lilies floating on its surface.

  Declan dragged the roll from the back of his saddle and spread it out in the shade. It was a quilted sleeping bag and made a comfortable covering for them to sit on. Alexandra dropped down on to it gladly, relieved to be off legs which had grown steadily more uncertain.

  Declan did not immediately sit down but wandered to the water’s edge, looking down into the depths. His back was turned and Alexandra gingerly slid her fingers inside the collar of her shirt and felt tentatively over her shoulder. She winced as she touched the abrasion which was causing her such pain each time the material of her shirt rubbed against it and saw to her dismay that there was blood on her fingers when she drew them away.