Power of the Sword c-10

by Wilbur Smith

  Her eyes were closed, and there was a delicate pattern of blue veins beneath the soft translucent skin of the lids. Her breathing was so gentle that for a moment he was alarmed, then she frowned softly in her sleep and his alarm gave way to concern as he saw the tiny arrowheads of strain and worry that had been chiselled at the corners of her eyes and mouth during these last months.

  My poor darling. His lips formed the words without sound, and slowly the splendid mood of the previous night washed away like sand before the incoming tide of harsh reality.

  My poor brave darling. He had not known grief like this since he stood beside his father's open grave. if only there was something I could do to help you, now in this time of your need. And as he sai it the thought occurred to him, and he started so violently that Centaine felt it and rolled away from him in her sleep, frowning again, the corner of her eyelid twitching, and muttered something that he could not understand and then was still.

  Blaine lay rigid beside her, every muscle in his body under stress, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaws biting down hard, appalled at himself, angry and frightened that he had even been capable of thinking that thought. His eyes were wide open now. He stared at the bright coin of sunlight on the opposite wall but did not see it, for he was a man on the torturer's rack, the rack of a terrible temptation.

  Honour, the words blazed in his mind, honour and duty. He groaned silently as on the other side of his brain another word burned as fiercely: love'.

  The woman who lay beside him had set no price upon her love. She had made no terms, no bargains, but had simply given without asking in return. Rather than demanding she had given him quittance; it was she who had insisted that no other person should be hurt by their happiness. Freely she had heaped upon him all the sweets of her love without asking the smallest price, not the gold band and vows of marriage, not even promises or assurances, and he had offered nothing. Until this moment there had been nothing for him to give her in repayment.

  on the other hand he had been singled out by a great and good man who had placed unquestioning trust in him.

  Honour and duty on one hand, love on the other. This time there was no escape from the lash of his conscience. VVho would he betray, the man he revered or the woman he loved?

  He could not lie still another moment and stealthily he lifted the sheet. Centaine's eyelids fluttered; she made a little mewling sound and then settled deeper into sleep.

  The previous evening she had laid out a new razor and toothbrush on the washstand in the bathroom for him, and this little thoughtfulness goaded him further. The agony of indecision scourged him as he shaved and dressed.

  He tiptoed back into the bedroom and stood beside the bed.

  I could walk away, he thought. She will never know of my treachery. And then he wondered at his choice of word.

  Was it treachery to keep intact his honour, to cleave to his duty?

  He forced the thought aside and made his decision.

  He reached down and touched her eyelids. They fluttered open. She looked up at him, her pupils very black and big and unfocused. Then they contracted and she smiled, a comfortable sleepy contented smile.

  Darling, she murmured, what time is it? Centaine, are you awake? She sat up quickly, and exclaimed with dismay. Oh Blaine. You are dressed, so soon! Listen to me, Centaine. This is very important. Are you listening? She nodded, blinking the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes, and stared at him solemnly.

  Centaine, we are going off gold, he said, and his voice was harsh, rough with self-contempt and guilt. They made the decision yesterday, Ou Baas and Barry Hertzog. We'll be off gold by the time the markets re-open in the New Year. She stared at him blankly for a full five seconds and then suddenly it struck her and her eyes flared wide open, but then slowly the fire in them faded again.

  Oh God, my darling, what it must have cost you to tell me that, she said, and her voice shook with compassion, for she understood his sense of honour and knew the depths of his duty. You do love me, Blaine. You do truly love me.

  I believe it now. Yet he was glaring at her. She had never seen such an expression on his face before. It was almost as though he hated her for what he had done. She couldn't bear that look, and she scrambled onto her knees in the centre of the rumpled bed and held out her arms in appeal.

  Blaine, I won't use it. I won't use what you have told me and he snarled at her, his face contorted with guilt: That way you would let me make this sacrifice for nought. Don't hate me for it, Blaine, she pleaded, and the anger faded from his face.

  Hate you? he asked sadly. No, Centaine, that I could never do. He turned and strode from the room.

  She wanted to run after him, to try and comfort him, but she knew that it was beyond even the power of her great love. She sensed that, like a wounded lion, he had to be alone, and she listened to his heavy footfalls receding down the path through the plantation outside her window.

  Centaine sat at her desk at Weltevreden. She was alone, and in the centre of her desk stood the ivory and brass telephone.

  She was afraid. What she was about to do would place her far beyond the laws of society and the courts. She was at the begiming of a journey into uncharted territory, a lonely dangerous journey which could end for her in disgrace and imprisonment.

  The telephone rang and she started, and stared at the instrument fearfully. It rang again and she drew a deep breath and lifted the handset.

  Your call to Rabkin and Swales, Mrs Courtney, her secretary told her. I have Mr Swales on the line. Thank you, Nigel. She heard the hollow tone of her voice and cleared her throat.

  Mrs Courtney, She recognized Swales voice. He was the senior partner in the firm of stockbrokers and she had dealt with him before. 'May I wish you the compliments of the festive season. Thank you, Mr Swales. Her voice was crisp and businesslike. I have a buying order for you, Mr Swales. I'd like it filled before the market closes today. Of course, Swales assured her. We will complete it immediately. Please buy at best five hundred thousand East Rand Proprietary Mines, she said, and there was an echoing silence in the earphones.

  Five hundred thousand, Mrs Courtney, Swales repeated at last. 'ERP.M. are standing at twenty-two and six. That is almost six hundred thousand pounds. Exactly, Centaine agreed.

  Mrs Courtney, Swales stopped.

  Is there some problem, Mr Swales? No, of course not. None at all. You caught me by surprise, that's all. just the size of the order. I will get onto it right away., I will post you my cheque in full settlement just as soon as I receive your contract note for the purchase. She paused, and then went on icily, Unless, of course, you require me to send you a deposit immediately. She held her breath.

  Nowbere could she raise even the deposit that Swales was entitled to ask for.

  Oh dear, Mrs Courtney! I hope you didn't think, I must sincerely apologize for having led you to think that I might question your ability to pay. There is absolutely no hurry.

  We will post you the contract note in the usual way. Your credit with Rabkin and Swales is always good. I hope to confirm the purchase for you by tomorrow morning at the very latest. As you are no doubt aware, tomorrow is the final trading day before the Christmas recess. Her hands were shaking so violently that she had trouble setting the handset of the telephone on its hook.

  What have I done? she whispered, and she knew the answer. She had committed a criminal act of fraud, the maximum penalty for which was ten years imprisonment.

  She had just contracted a debt which she had no reasonable expectation of honouring. She was bankrupt, she knew she was bankrupt, and she had just taken on another half million pounds obligation. She was taken with a fit of remorse and she reached for the telephone to cancel the order, but it rang before she touched it.

  Mrs Courtney, I have Mr Anderson of Hawkes and Giles on the line. Put him on, please Nigel, she ordered, and she was amazed that there was no tremor in her voice as she said, casually, Mr Anderson, I have a purchase order for you, pleas
e. By noon she had telephoned seven separate firms of stockbrokers in Johannesburg and placed orders for the purchase of gold-mining shares to the value of five and a half million pounds. Then at last her nerve failed her.

  Nigel, cancel the other two calls, please, she said calmly, and ran to her private bathroom at the end of the passage with her hands over her mouth.

  just in time she fell to her knees in front of the white porcelain toilet bowl and vomited into it a hard projectile stream, bringing up her terror and shame and guilt, heaving and retching until her stomach was empty and the muscles of her chest ached and her throat burned as though it had been scalded raw with acid.

  Christmas Day had always been one of their very special days since Shasa was a child, but she awoke this morning in a sombre mood.

  Still in their night clothes and dressing-gowns, she and

  Shasa exchanged their presents in her suite. He had hand painted a special card for her, and decorated it with pressed wild flowers. His present to her was Francois Mauriac's new no!el Noeud de Vip&res and he had inscribed on the flyleaf: No matter what, we still have each other Shasa.

  Her present to him was a leather flying helmet with goggles and he looked at her with amazement. She had made her opposition to flying very plain.

  Yes, cheri, if you want to learn to fly, I'll not stop you. Can we afford it, Mater? I mean, you know- You let me worry about that. 'No, Mater. He shook his head firmly. I'm not a child any more. From now on I am going to help you. I don't want anything that will make it more difficult for you, for us. She ran to him and embraced him quickly, pressing her cheek to his so that he could not see the shine of tears in her eyes.

  We are desert creatures. We will survive, my darling. But her moods swung wildly all the rest of that day as Centaine played the grande dame, the chatelaine of Weltevreden, welcoming the many callers at the estate, serving sherry and biscuits and exchanging gifts with them, laughing and charming, and then on the pretext of seeing to the servants hurrying away to lock herself in the mirrored study with the drawn curtains while she fought off the black moods, the doubts and the terrible crippling forebodings.

  Shasa seemed to understand, standing in her place when she fell out, suddenly mature and responsible, rallying to her aid as he had never been called upon to do before.

  just before noon one of their callers brought tidings which genuinely allowed Centaine to forget for a short time her own forebodings. The Rev. Canon Birt was the headmaster of Bishops and he took Centaine and Shasa aside for a few moments.

  Mrs Courtney, you know what a name young Shasa has made for himself at Bishops. Unfortunately next year will be his last with us. We shall miss him. However, I am sure it will come as no surprise to you to hear that I have selected him to be head of school in the new term, or that the board of governors have endorsed my choice. Not in front of the Head, Mater, Shasa whispered, in an agony of embarrassment when Centaine embraced him joyously, but she deliberately kissed both his cheeks in the manner he designated French and pretended to disparage.

  That is not all, Mrs Courtney. Canon Birt beamed on this display of maternal pride. I have been asked by the board of governors to invite you to join them. You will be the first woman, ah, the first lady, ever to sit on the board. Centaine was on the point of accepting immediately, but then like the shadow of the executioner's axe the premonition of impending financial catastrophe dulled her vision and she hesitated.

  I know you are a very busy person, he was about to urge her.

  am honoured, Headmaster, she told him. But there are personal considerations. May I give you my reply in the new year?

  Just as long as that is not an outright refusal No, I give you my assurance. If I can, I will. When the last caller had been packed off, Centaine could lead the family, including Sir Garry and Anna and the very closest family friends, down to the polo field for the next act in their traditional Weltevreden Christmas festival.

  The entire coloured staff was assembled there, with their children and aged parents and the estate pensioners too old to work, and all the others who Centaine supported. Every one of them was dressed in their Sunday best, a marvelous assortment of styles and cuts and colours, the little girls with ribbons in their hair and the small boys for once with shoes on their feet.

  The estate band, fiddles and concertinas and banjoes, welcomed Centaine, and the singing, the very voice of Africa, was melodious and beautiful. She had a gift for each of them, which she handed over with an envelope containing their Christmas bonus. Some of the older women, emboldened by their long service and sense of occasion, embraced her, and so precarious was Centaine's mood that these spontaneous gestures of affection made her weep again, which set the other women off.

  It was swiftly becoming an orgy of sentiment and Shasa hastily signalled the band to strike up something lively.

  They chose Alabama', the old Cape Malay song that commemorated the cruise of the confederate raider to Cape waters when she captured the Sea Bride in Table Bay on 5

  August, 1863.

  There comes the Alabama Daar kom die Alabama Then Shasa supervised the drawing of the bung from the first keg of sweet estate wine, and almost immediately the tears dried and the mood became festive and gay.

  once the whole sheep on the spits were sizzling and dripping rich fat onto the coals, the second keg of wine had been broached, the dancing was losing all restraint and the younger couples were sneaking away into the vineyards, Centaine gathered the party from the big house and left them to it.

  As they passed the Huguenot vineyard, they heard the giggling and scuffling amongst the vines behind the stone wall and Sir Garry remarked complacently: Shouldn't think Weltevreden is going to run short of labour in the foreseeable future. Sounds like a good crop being planted. You are as shameless as they are, Anna buffed, and then giggled herself just as breathlessly as the young girls in the vineyard as he squeezed her thick waist and whispered something in her ear.

  That little intimacy lanced Centaine with a blade of loneliness, and she thought of Blaine and wanted to weep again.

  But Shasa seemed to sense her pain and took her hand and made her laugh with one of his silly jokes.

  The family dinner was part of the tradition. Before they ate Shasa read aloud to them from the New Testament as he had every Christmas Day since his sixth birthday. Then he and Centaine distributed the pile of presents from under the tree, and the salon was filled with the rustle of paper and the ooh's and aah's of delight.

  The dinner was roast turkey and a baron of beef followed by a rich black Christmas pudding. Shasa found the lucky gold sovereign in his portion, as he did every year without suspecting that it had been carefully salted there by Centaine during the serving; and when at the end they all tottered away, satiated and heavy-eyed, to their separate bedrooms, Centaine slipped out of the french windows of her study and ran all the way down through the plantation and burst into the cottage.

  Blaine was waiting for her and she ran to him. We should be together at Christmas and every other day. He stopped her from going on by kissing her, and she reviled herself for her silliness. When she pulled back in his arms, she was smiling brightly. I couldn't wrap your Christmas present. The shape is all wrong and the ribbon wouldn't stay on. You'll have to take it all natural. Where is it? Follow me, sir, and it shall be delivered unto you. Now that, he said a little later, is by far the nicest present that anybody ever gave me, and so very useful too! There were no newspapers on New Year's Day, but Centaine listened to the news every hour on the radio. There was no mention of the gold standard or any other political issue on these bulletins. Blaine was away, occupied all day with meetings and discussions concerning his candidature for the coming parliamentary by-election at the Gardens. Shasa had gone as house guest to one of the neighbouring estates. She was alone with her fears and doubts.

  She read until after midnight and then lay in the darkness, sleeping only fitfully and plagued by nightmares, starting awake and then d
rifting back into uneasy sleep.

  Long before dawn she gave up the attempt to find rest and dressed in jodhpurs and riding-boots and her sheepskin coat.

  She saddled her favourite stallion and rode down in the darkness five miles to the railway station at Claremont to meet the early train from Cape Town.

  She was waiting on the platform when the bundles of newspapers were thrown out of the goods van onto the concrete quay, and the small coloured newsboys swarmed over them, chattering and laughing as they divided up the bundles for delivery. Centaine tossed one of them a silver shilling and he hooted with glee when she waved away the change and eagerly unfolded the newspaper.

  The headlines took up fully half the front page, and they rocked her on her feet.

  SOUTH AFRICA ABANDONS GOLD STANDARD HUGE BOOST FOR GOLD MINES She scanned the columns below, barely able to take in any more, and then, still in a daze, rode back up the valley to Weltevreden. Only when she reached the Anreith gates did the full impact of it all dawn upon her. Weltevreden was still hers, it would always be hers, and she rose in the stirrups and shouted with joy, then urged her horse into a flying gallop, lifting him over the stone wall and racing down between the rows of vines.

  She left him in his stall and ran all the way back to the chAteau.

  She had to talk to someone, if only it could have been Blaine. But Sir Garry was in the dining-room; he was always first down for breakfast.

  Have you heard the news, my dear? he cried excitedly the moment she entered. I heard it on the radio at six o'clock. We are off gold. Hertzog did it! By God, there will be a few fortunes made and lost this day! Anybody who is holding gold shares will double and treble their money. Oh, my dear, is something wrong? Centaine had collapsed into her chair at the head of the dining-room table.

  No, no. She shook her head frantically. There is nothing wrong, not any more. Everything is all right, wonderfully, magnificently, stupendously all right. At lunchtime Blaine telephoned her at Weltevreden. He had never done so before. His voice sounded hollow and strange on the scratchy line. He did not announce himself but said Simply: Five o'clock at the cottage. Yes, I'll be there. She wanted to say more but the line clicked dead.