by Peter Watt
‘Ah, it is good to see you,’ Saul said, embracing Matthew in a giant bear hug.
Matthew disengaged himself and stepped back. The two men stood outside Saul’s modest stone house watched by passing villagers. Many remembered Matthew as the brave airman who had helped save their village.
‘Come inside,’ Saul said. ‘I will make us real coffee. My family are away so you will have to trust my skills in the kitchen.’
Matthew went inside the house and the familiar, homely scents assailed him with memories of a time when he and Joanne had clung to each other in his tiny bed before a dangerous mission. He sat down at a wooden table while Saul fumbled around in the kitchen, preparing the thick, black coffee he had acquired a taste for, although Matthew found it overpowering in the small cup it was served in.
‘We have a mission,’ Saul asked, making it a statement, and Matthew related the story of James Barrington Senior and his cronies back in Jerusalem.
‘They plan to kill you when you show them where Joanne is buried,’ Saul said, sipping his coffee and stroking his long beard. ‘We will have to prepare for that situation when it comes.’
‘Thank you, my old friend,’ Matthew said. ‘You are truly my brother.’
‘We have been through a lot,’ Saul smiled. ‘I remember a boy shaking with fright at Elands River, but he left a man and with his head high.’
‘You were not there when we were relieved,’ Matthew reminded him. ‘If I remember rightly, you were off with the Boers, and I was still shaking with fright when the British relief force arrived.’
Saul shrugged, as if the details did not matter. ‘I will meet with you in three days at your hotel, and by then you should have been able to secure all the supplies we will need. Trust me, Matthew my brother, I will not allow anyone to kill you.’
Matthew made his farewells and returned to the airstrip to rescue the British observer from the admiring young ladies who had joined the children to examine the curious flying machine.
Matthew took off and returned to the British airstrip early in the afternoon, bringing both observer and Bristol fighter intact. Back in the hotel he ran into Barrington himself in the foyer.
‘I was informed that you flew south this morning,’ Barrington said from the cane chair he was occupying.
Bloody man had eyes everywhere, Matthew thought. He had obviously been waiting for him to return.
‘I went to meet the man who will accompany us in our search,’ Matthew replied. ‘He will join us in three days and has left the organisation of the supplies to me. We will need to go armed. The territory we will be in is home to several groups of Bedouin bandits.’
‘You will not be required to carry arms. The two men I have with me are more than capable of defending us.’
‘I am an officer in the Australian Flying Corp and we carry a sidearm as a matter of protocol,’ Matthew countered.
‘Very well,’ Barrington conceded. ‘You are permitted to arm yourself with a pistol – but no other arms. If that is all, I expect that we will leave from here at 6am sharp, three days from now.’
The imperious American rose from his chair and left Matthew alone in the foyer pondering Saul’s plan to keep them both alive. ‘I hope you have a bloody good plan, old son,’ he muttered. ‘Or we will end up as bleaching bones out there.’
On the Western Front the war dragged on, although rumours of an imminent armistice filtered down to the trenches, where men huddled in the safety of bunkers and the gashes in the earth, waiting for another winter of barbed wire, bombs, bullets and bandages.
For Sergeant Tom Duffy time in the rear of the trenches training the newcomers to the platoon meant another day away from the death he knew stalked him. His students formed a semicircle around him as he went through the drills of fusing and preparing the Mills hand grenade, while in the background the steady crump crump of exploding artillery shells drifted to him from the direction of the front line.
‘The preferred method of throwing the bomb is the overhand toss as if you were back home bowling for the pub team,’ Tom said, adopting the stance of a cricket bowler. He paused. There was something different in the air and he lowered the unfused practice grenade to his side. He could hear a lark singing when at this time of year they should not be heard, and there was a steady growl of men’s voices shouting and hollering from the cluster of tents nearby.
‘Sergeant Duffy, Tom!’ a voice called and Tom turned to see Sergeant Paddy Bourke running and stumbling towards him across the grassy field, waving his arms. The frantic approach by the platoon sergeant caught all in Tom’s class attention. When Paddy reached Tom he was out of breath but his face was lit with a broad smile.
‘It’s all over,’ he gasped. ‘The war is over. The Huns signed the armistice and in half an hour,’ Paddy said checking his fob watch, ‘at 1100 hours today, the fighting stops.’
Tom stared at his cobber, trying to register that all he had to do was live another half-hour and it would be all over; then, as if all the demons of hell were mocking them, the silence was interrupted by a steady series of explosive crumps of artillery shells exploding.
‘The bastards!’ Tom swore. ‘They’re using up as many of their shells as they can before the war ends.’
Paddy looked at Tom and his smile disappeared. Both men knew that the Allied gunners were pouring in every round they had as fast as possible, and German soldiers would be dying as the earth shook under them and the red-hot fragments of steel tore away flesh and limbs. Even with only minutes to the cessation of hostilities the Allies were wreaking a terrible revenge on their foe. There would be mothers, wives and sisters in Germany who would lose their beloved with only minutes left to the end.
Tom turned to his class and gave the order for them to fall out to their tents. When they were gone he and Paddy sat down in the field to light their pipes and wait for the silence of the guns, and for the lone lark to return with his song.
At 11am on the eleventh day of November, 1918, sergeant’s Tom Duffy and Paddy Bourke were discussing the future when the war finally ended on the Western Front. Tom knew where he would go on his first leave. The war had brought Juliet Joubert into his life and also taken her from him, but in peacetime she would be with him forever. Before then, he and Paddy Bourke would get falling down drunk and try to forget the last four years of hell.
24
The faces of the men sitting around the huge teak table were grim. George Macintosh sat at the top of the boardroom table; his assembled directors puffed on cigars and cigarettes, filling the room with smoke.
‘I know that the end of the war will effect profits from our government contracts,’ George said. ‘But the companies have to now diversify and cater to the changing situation peace has brought to the world. We will have our troops returning and I see a market in that. Gentlemen, I expect you to come up with ideas as to how we can make money from the returning servicemen. Many will find that they no longer have jobs, and I foresee an unemployment problem. The government has promised land to returning soldiers, and from what I have learned through confidential sources, the farmland to be allocated will not be the best. Much of it will be scrub and the recipients will need to invest in clearing that land before it can be farmed. There is an opportunity in picking up what’s left when they find themselves in debt after they improve the land.’
‘That is a bit rough,’ a board member protested. ‘Those men have suffered enough, and to exploit them seems ruthless and immoral.’
George did not lose his temper at the protesting board member; he knew the man had a nephew returning to Australia from France. ‘It is not immoral, Mr Beadsley,’ he responded. ‘It is simply a matter of good business to take advantage of any bad decisions made by the government, and by buying out those who are not able to make money from their allotments, we will be doing them and the country a service.’
George could see that his response had not satisfied all his board members – especially Beadsley – b
ut he knew that they were smart enough not to challenge him if they wished to continue prospering under his leadership.
The meeting continued and ideas were passed around the table for the future of the Macintosh companies. To the businessmen sitting in the boardroom peace simply meant reassessing the business environment. War had proved to be a bonus to the Macintosh financial empire and George believed that peacetime would bring its own profits. Thank God his father and brother had been killed off by the war, or they might have returned with charitable ideas of distributing the wealth to those in need. He surveyed the men down the table and knew he was among like-minded people. They had not been touched by war, sitting safely in their Sydney mansions and ensuring that their sons remained out of uniform or had been allocated desk jobs away from the fighting.
Now George had the board onside, he could get on with scheming the demise of his only real competitor – David Macintosh.
On the other side of the world Matthew Duffy and Saul Rosenblum were already trekking east from Jerusalem. They rode well-fed horses and so did Barrington, but his two assistants were forced to ride donkeys. The allocation of donkeys to the two surly men had been Saul’s idea. He had told them that horses were in short supply, and that if they did not wish to walk the three days it would take to reach their destination, they would have to ride the donkeys. They weren’t happy about it but there wasn’t much they could do. All supplies were packed and carried in saddlebags and when Matthew had asked Barrington about a means of transporting Joanne’s body he had said that this had been already worked out. Matthew thought this odd as there were no spare mounts, unless of course someone no longer required theirs.
Matthew was surprised at how tough Joanne’s father was in the harsh conditions of the journey. He did not show any signs of fatigue or discomfort, and rode with a straight back and in silence.
The country became more isolated and rugged as they rode on, until the last of the large villages was behind them. They were fortunate with the temperate weather and clear skies. That night they set up camp in a ravine bordered by arid hills.
Matthew and Saul made the excuse of seeking wood or camel dung for a small fire and left Barrington and his men at the camp.
‘What is your plan if things start to go wrong?’ Matthew asked as they foraged in the gully, out of earshot.
‘Don’t worry,’ Saul replied, finding a small dried stick washed down the gully when the rains had come. ‘Just trust me – we are being looked after.’
‘Yes, but how?’ Matthew frowned. ‘Barrington obviously intends to use our horses to convey Joanne back to Jerusalem. That means we will no longer need our mounts and that means we will be left out here – most probably corpses.’
‘We have our pistols,’ Saul said. ‘And we won’t be in danger until we find Joanne’s grave.’
Matthew agreed and decided to trust in Saul’s contingency plan – whatever it was – although he resented Saul’s evasiveness on the subject.
When they returned to the campsite with a small bundle of sticks they could see that Barrington and his men were already eating from cans of cold meat. No provision had been made for Saul and Matthew so they decided to set up their small fire a short distance away. At least they would have hot coffee with their cold meat.
‘Hey, Jewboy!’ called one of Barrington’s men. His name was Gruber and he was the least pleasant of the two men Barrington had hired for the expedition. ‘You boil up some coffee for us.’
Matthew noticed Saul reach for his revolver but he glanced a warning at him.
‘Get your own kindling,’ Matthew replied.
Gruber stood and walked belligerently towards Saul, who was squatting by the small fire sipping his coffee.
‘You know what me and Peabody over there did to a nigger a couple of months ago in Alabamy, we cut out his balls, strung him up and set him alight so we could hear him squeal. The whole county turned out to watch.’
‘This is not Alabama, my friend,’ Saul said in a low, dangerous tone. ‘Here you are in my land and we have far more imaginative ways of killing a man slowly. I suspect that you have never faced a man who is armed and dangerous.’
Gruber was standing over Saul, but backed off when he saw the expression on Saul’s face.
‘Nice bastard,’ Matthew said quietly. ‘I bloody well hope that whatever plan you have is bloody sound.’
‘You have the papers I recommended you have drawn up by my wife’s cousin in Jerusalem?’ Saul asked, glancing over his shoulder at Gruber and Peabody, who were now cleaning military-issue Springfield bolt-action rifles.
‘Yes, in my saddlebag,’ Matthew answered. ‘But I can’t see how they’re going to help us out here.’
‘Trust me, Matthew,’ Saul said. ‘Have I ever let you down?’
‘No,’ Matthew smiled. ‘But you have led me into some damned dangerous situations where I was lucky to get out alive.’
Saul laughed out loud, but said no more.
That night both men slept away from the three Americans and took turns to keep watch. The night was uneventful, however, and so was their journey the next day.
Midmorning on the third day Saul led the small party to the hilltop where Joanne was buried under a cairn of stones. The five men stood around the small pile of rocks in silence as a breeze wafted from the north-east.
Matthew felt terrible grief for what he had lost, for the mother his children would never know, and he did not attempt to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks.
Barrington looked apprehensive, but he showed no signs of the grief he might be feeling. Instead he asked gruffly, ‘You sure this is my daughter’s grave?’
Matthew nodded.
‘Get the shovels and the canvas,’ Barrington commanded his two men. They returned with shovels and a sheet of canvas to wrap Joanne’s remains.
‘I am sorry, Mr Barrington, but I do not wish to be present when Joanne’s body is disturbed,’ Matthew said, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.
Barrington cast Matthew a sharp look. ‘It was you who brought her to her grave, yet you do not have the guts to see what you have done to my little girl.’
‘It was the war that took your daughter’s life,’ Saul growled, ‘not Captain Duffy.’
Barrington did not answer but watched as Peabody and Gruber stood by waiting for the next order, their rifles slung casually over their shoulders.
‘You know what, Peabody,’ Gruber said, throwing the shovel on the earth in front of Saul and unslinging his rifle. ‘I think the Jewboy and Papist should do the work.’
Gruber had hardly levelled his rifle before both Matthew and Saul had their revolvers in their hands, pointing at him. Gruber, however, did not appear to be alarmed.
‘Your pistols have been unloaded,’ Barrington said. ‘I know you are a smart man, Captain Duffy, and always knew that you knew that you would occupy my daughter’s grave.’
Matthew pulled the trigger, but the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. Barrington had not been bluffing. By now Peabody also had his rifle off his shoulder and was aiming it at Saul.
‘Seems you got the drop on us, Barrington,’ Saul said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, and raised his right arm.
‘Pick up the shovel, Jewboy,’ Gruber said, stepping forward to lash out with the butt of his weapon. Saul stepped back quickly, avoiding the blow.
‘Hit me, you piece of scum,’ Saul said, ‘and I will kill you.’
Gruber hesitated, then burst into laughter. ‘You know how we told you about what we did to that nigger in Alabamy, well, you’re going to find out what it feels like to have your balls cut out and stuffed in your mouth. I –’ Gruber paused when he saw the look of shock on Peabody’s face. ‘Goddamn!’ he cursed, following Peabody’s gaze. ‘Who are they?’
All turned to stare at a ridge only a hundred yards away to see a line of seven mounted men on horses pointing rifles at them. They were dressed in the garb of Arab Bedouins and Matt
hew broke into a broad smile. So this had been Saul’s secret plan, he thought.
‘They are men from my village – led by my son,’ Saul said. ‘And if you don’t lower your guns, they will ensure that you die a slow and very painful death.’
Matthew could see that Barrington had paled, and when they caught each other’s eyes Matthew could see an almost grudging respect.
‘Put down your rifles,’ Barrington said. ‘There is no need for bloodshed.’
Reluctantly Gruber and Peabody placed their rifles on the ground as Benjamin, leading a band of six men, rode down a steep slope and up onto the top of the hill.
Benjamin leapt from his horse and approached his beaming father.
‘You have done well,’ Saul said with pride. ‘You did well to remain out of sight and still keep course with us.’
‘You trained me well, Father,’ Benjamin said, grinning.
Saul turned to Matthew, who took Barrington aside. ‘I have legal papers in my saddlebag,’ he said. ‘And if you wish to leave here alive, you will sign them.’
‘What papers?’ Barrington asked suspiciously.
‘Papers that verify that I am the father of Joanne’s children. And that I will be able to see my son and daughter in the future.’
Barrington glared at Matthew. ‘What is the alternative?’ he asked in a cold tone. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘You and I will never be friends, but I expect you to recognise that I am your grandchildren’s father,’ Matthew said. ‘I am also practical enough to know that my children will benefit from your wealth and influence in the years ahead, and that I would be a very poor father given the kind of life I lead. So I offer you the children to raise but insist that I be able to visit them when I choose. If you sign the papers I will also spare your life.’
The slightest of smiles crossed Barrington’s aristocratic face. ‘I certainly underestimated you, Captain Duffy. Of course I am fully aware that no American court of law would release the children into your care, but I appreciate your generosity in allowing me to keep them. Now, they’re all I have left of my Joanne,’ he said, motioning abruptly to the grave marker. ‘I am very attached to them and I can promise you that they will want for nothing that my money can buy. In our contract you will add that I am to raise my grandchildren without any interference from you.’
