Tina turned a rebellious face towards him. Incensed at being reminded so often of her previous folly, she determined to snap back at him, but her happiness would not allow the furious words to be spoken. In a second, her frown was replaced by a tremulous smile as her full heart sought for words to thank him.
'I can't tell you, señor,' she whispered huskily, 'how much this chance means to me, and I want to thank you sincerely for giving it to me.' Even as she watched the contours of his face hardened. His bright blue eyes narrowed to wary slits as he rebuffed her harshly,
'Do not flatter yourself that I am doing this for your benefit, Señorita Donnelly. My motives are purely personal! It is merely that I, too, have a wish to further science...'
Tina tried hard not to show the hurt rejection she was feeling as they set off up river, presumably in the direction of the Guaharibos' village. She was wishing she had not come; the atmosphere was fraught with an unspoken resentment that promised to become even worse the longer they were alone together. The olive branch she had so eagerly grasped in her desire to make up her differences with the señor had been revealed as a bunch of nettles whose sharpness had stung her from her complacency into the realization that the gulf of misunderstanding between them could not be bridged merely by ignoring its existence. His contempt was humiliating and hurtful; one look at his set face was enough to convince her that an explanation would be abortive - worse, rebuffed - if she should ever be foolish enough to attempt one.
Her attention was distracted when the canoe suddenly changed course and headed for one of the many waterways that spilled into the main river. As the señor vouchsafed no information, she guessed, as they negotiated a narrow inlet, that scythed through vegetation so prolific it seemed to be creeping with slow stealth to engulf them, that they were entering the heart of the uncharted territory that housed the herb doctor. As they journeyed along the narrow waterway for what seemed hours, Tina's nerves began to tauten with a fear that was in no way alleviated by her companion's complete lack of desire to communicate. While he rowed steadily onwards, deep in frowning thought, her eyes raked the tangled mass of undergrowth and trees, imagining that each stirring bush hid an aggressive wild animal; that each overhanging branch held a giant insect ready to sting, and that every slim branch sticking out of a thicket was a blowpipe heralding the whistle of a poisonous dart or arrow. Although the only actual movements she saw were those of harmless butterflies and birds, the strong aura of menace convinced her that wary, hostile eyes were peering from behind screening bushes every inch of the way.
Eventually, the señor guided the canoe to the edge of the bank and held out his hand to help her ashore. She was trembling with apprehension when she took it, so much so that his black eyebrows rose in interrogation. Hastily, before he could begin to probe, she broke into nervous chatter.
'How lovely the jungle is - look!' she pointed to a burst of flame-coloured orchids whose beauty displayed against a background of dark green foliage defied description. 'Aren't they amply magnificent?' Her pointing finger followed the flight of a bird of many colours. 'And there! How unbelievably lovely.'
She gave a sigh of relief when he permitted himself a slight smile of agreement - he had been successfully sidetracked, but his too perceptive eyes were a danger she would have to remember to guard against constantly.
When he had pulled the canoe on to firm ground, he directed her, 'Follow me closely, señorita. Walk in my footsteps and, whatever happens, do not be tempted to lag behind, do you understand?'
She swallowed a large lump of fear and nodded without speaking before he swung on his heel and plunged into the labyrinth of jungle. She took one last fearful glance around at the comparative tranquillity they were to leave before steeling herself to follow into the vast, green anonymous tract that had already engulfed him. Panic-stricken, she hastened after him, convinced that he was capable of leaving her to fend for herself if his orders were not obeyed, and in a matter of seconds she was sheltering behind his broad back with her small footprints being thankfully implanted in the larger depressions made by his.
Looking back, Tina wondered how she ever survived the journey. Certainly, the only thing that kept her going was the conviction that(Ramon Vegas was enjoying the sight of her discomfort and was deliberately stretching her to the limit in order to witness her surrender. But he was disappointed. She gritted her teeth and battled to keep up with his killing pace once she realized that he had no intention of making allowances for her simply because she was a woman. Determination was the one thing that kept her going through the never-ending world of trees and vegetation. She waded swamps, climbed hills, crossed streams and, perhaps worst of all, suffered the hundreds of hungry mosquitoes whose persistence was equalled only by her own. Sometimes the going underfoot was soft and easy, at other times it was a tangled mass of thorn and scrub through which the señor had to hack his way with a machete. Lianas, and the horribly wispy roots of plants which live in trees and never need soil, brushed her face and she came to curse the screaming macaws who repeatedly startled her almost out of her wits by suddenly taking wing and screeching through the aisles of the forest like demented souls.
She was exhausted and extremely hot when he finally called a halt. Looking down at her sweat-streaked face, he mocked with grim enjoyment,
'Are you ready to eat, señorita, or do you wish to travel on a little farther?'
She heaved in a deep breath and straightened her aching back. 'I'll leave that to you,' she lied hardly. 'I'm willing to carry on if you are.'
An unwilling glint of admiration, quickly masked, lit his brilliant eyes. Every muscle in her body screamed for respite as she waited for his decision.
'We will rest now and eat,' he said, to her infinite relief, then, as if to recompense for his cruel treatment, he added easily, 'The village is only an hour's distance away, so the worst of our journey is over.'
The meal of hard biscuits, sardines, and crushed dates which he produced from his knapsack tasted divine and she tucked into it with enthusiasm. Unknown to her, he watched her lick each separate finger with the methodical absorption of a child when she had finished, then, when she proceeded to stretch full out on the carpet of moss and gave a murmuring sigh that could almost have been a purr, a frown of puzzlement creased his brow. Suddenly conscious of his silent appraisal, she opened one eye lazily to search for him; his frowning image was the last thing she saw before a mist of tiredness clouded her vision and she surrendered to the pressing call of sleep.
She awoke with a start when large raindrops splashed her cheeks. Drowsiness fled when a spear of lightning tore a jagged path through the clouds and thunder shook the earth. Instinctively, she looked for the señor. He was repacking the knapsack, but turned his head when he heard her movement and quickly reassured her,
'Don't be alarmed. The storm will be severe, but it will quickly pass. Come,' he gestured ahead, 'we will get just as wet if we walk as we will if we stay here, and we have no time to lose if we are to reach the village before nightfall.'
Obediently, she scrambled to her feet and made to follow him, but a second later she was blinded when the heavens opened and a solid sheet of water descended, cutting off her vision completely. She gasped at the viciousness of the onslaught and put out her hands to pierce the curtain of water that blocked her view. Hysteria filled her at the thought of the señor striding onward without a backward look, leaving her stranded, and a scream she could not hold back escaped her. Out of the void something reached out and fastened a tight grip on her arm. Was it a snake... ?
Her second scream of terror was cut off sharply when the señor's voice pierced the deafening uproar made by the frenzied rain that was battering the undergrowth to a pulp.
'What is wrong? Are you hurt?' The curt questions, shouted in her ear, brought her to her senses, and the awareness that it was his hand that gripped her arm and not some fearsome jungle prowler made some swift explanation imperative.
'I
... I stumbled and wrenched my ankle,' she offered wildly, not really expecting to be believed. 'But it's nothing, really,' she stepped back as he would have bent down to examine it, 'the pain was only momentary. I can walk perfectly well now.'
As he looked suspiciously down into her confused face, rain ran in rivulets from his black hair and down his lean cheeks. She returned his scrutiny with a fast beating heart, wondering if her stupid nervousness had betrayed her inaptitude, but all he said was a curt: 'Very well, let's go!'
As swiftly as it had begun, the rain ceased. Tina experiencing for the first time the glorious freshness of tropical vegetation after rain, wanted to exclaim loudly at the miraculous recovery of the plants and shrubs which only minutes ago had seemed doomed to die, but she had to follow in the señor's wake and revel silently in the pleasure she was feeling. Gone for the moment was the stifling, sapping heat of the forest and in its place was a cool dampness that acted like a tonic upon her jaded spirits. Every plant and shrub now had a rejuvenated, freshly showered look and the host of fragrances that filled the air might have been offered as a hymn of thanksgiving from the parched earth. Tina almost skipped along behind the still silent señor, oblivious now to his grim aloofness and also to the sodden state of her clothes which, as the sun penetrated, began steaming themselves dry on her refreshed body. Idly, her thoughts on the beauty around her, she loosened the pins from her hair, unplaited the thick braid, and allowed the heavy mass to hang free to her waist to dry. She forgot completely, in her absorption, that the main function of the sophisticated hairstyle was to detract from her image of extreme youthfulness and wandered, blissfully unaware, behind the keen-eyed señor.
But he was giving all his attention to the route they were travelling - minute, intense attention. She watched him move with the sleek wariness of a jungle beast as he swiftly surveyed each tree they passed, stopping at intervals to examine the ground before deciding which direction to take. His task utilized his concentration to the exclusion of everything around him, and Tina knew better than to intrude upon his preoccupation with idle chatter.
After another half hour of concentrating silence, he stopped and gave a grunt of satisfaction. Tina leant sideways to see the cause, and felt a thrill of fear at the sight of a well trodden path directing a way through the undergrowth. They were almost there.
She was startled when the señor shouted a guttural message in some primitive tongue in the direction of the surrounding bushes, then went rigid with alarm when they parted to display four of the most savage-looking men she had ever seen. She smothered a scream and moved quickly towards the señor. Without turning his eyes away from the approaching Indians, he told her softly, 'There's no need to be frightened. If they had meant us any harm they would have confronted us hours ago. Keep calm and, above all, do not allow them to see that you are afraid.'
Hours ago? her mind questioned. That meant the natives had been shadowing them ever since they had beached the canoe - perhaps even before then. Her instinct about being watched had been a correct one; they had been under observation all the way. She shook with fright as she watched them approach, but tried hard not to show it. Her fascinated eyes took in everything about them that was alien; their masses of tatted hair; their strong-looking, pointed teeth that were bared in a triumphant grimace that sent a shudder of revulsion through her trembling body; their threatening stance as they half hopped, half darted forward, and their primitive menace which was emphasized by the swirls of dye that ornamented their naked bodies, proclaiming them brutes of creation to whom a code of conduct would mean as little to them as did the strange noises they were making meant to her.
But were the noises so strange? Her ears pricked up when she heard a familiar note amongst the gibberish utterances. She looked to the señor and found, to her astonishment, that he was smiling. Everything then fell into place - the familiar word she heard coming from the lips of the Indians was 'Caramuru' and, far from being warlike, the men were actually greeting him by name!
She leant her shaking body against a tree and watched the enthusiastic welcome. Laughing and smiling, the señor slapped the fearsome creatures on their backs and exchanged unintelligible words with them. It was suddenly all so remote from life as she knew it that she began to laugh. In seconds, she was clinging helplessly to the tree-trunk with tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. When a sharp, stinging blow connected with her cheek she was jerked back to sanity. Aghast, she stared up at the señor, who was standing in front of her, his hand half raised, ready to strike again. All the breath seemed to have left her body, so that when she tried to speak all she could manage was a strangled choke. It was left to her eyes to express what she felt of his action. They stared accusingly out of her white face and portrayed at first shocked reproach and then hurt amazement before anger and scorn took over.
'You beast!' she trembled tearfully. 'How dare you!'
She felt satisfied that her words had hit home when he stared down at her for one startled second as if seeing her for the first time - but his recovery was swift. He retaliated by giving her a thorough shaking that chased away all the fear she had been feeling and left furious anger in its wake. She lifted her hands to beat a punitive tattoo of rage against his rock-hard chest, then felt her wrists clasped in an iron hand that squeezed so tightly she had to plead for mercy:
'Please ... oh, don't, you're hurting me!'
''Then stop this childish hysteria,' he hissed, 'before you ruin everything! No native woman is allowed to lift shame her man by exhibiting such tantrums, so neither must you. These people are to be our hosts and as such they are entitled to as much respect as you would accord to your own countrymen, please remember that!'
Outraged colour burned her cheeks at his words and she stammered in her urgency to disabuse him of one notion, at least.
'I'm not a native woman, and you're not my man!' she hurled back at him.
His cool reply left her speechless. 'For your own protection, you are my woman and I am your man for just as long as we are in this territory. But, believe me, the situation will remain so only for as long as is absolutely necessary. Now!' he pushed her urgently forward, 'if you are ready, we will proceed to seek what we came for - the herb doctor.'
The four natives had disappeared, but the señor led the way unerringly. They walked only a few short yards before the jungle broke away into a sizeable clearing holding two large beehive-shaped dwellings and a few smaller huts linked by a system of paths. That they were expected was obvious; the whole village had turned out to greet them and when they stepped out of the jungle and into the clearing a sound swelled in unison from the throats of the waiting natives.
'Caramuru! Caramuru!'
The Indians, men, women and children, surged forward to surround them. Tina clutched at the señor's arm, ready for the onslaught, but to her bewilderment the first wave of natives stopped a few feet away, then dropped on their knees to the ground, staring with wide-eyed excitement in her direction.
'What's wrong?' her hand clutched even tighter. 'Why are they all staring at me?' His only answer was a puzzled frown which disturbed her even further. For a long moment everything was hushed, then through the kneeling crowd walked an old Indian whose regal bearing and ornate headdress proclaimed him a man of importance.
'The tribal chief,' the señor enlightened her, before stepping forward to greet him. Tina remained rooted to the spot, uncomfortably aware of the unblinking stares of the abject natives. When the señor had finished his conversation with the chief, he strolled back and gave an unamused chuckle before telling her dryly,
'It seems, Señorita Donnelly, that you have been elected my woman whether you like it or not.' In answer to her uncomprehending stare, he qualified mockingly: 'The colour of your hair has decided them. By the simple process of combining attributes, they have linked us together. Because I was the first man they ever saw using a gun, these natives gave me the name Caramuru - or Man of Fire.'
'But what h
as that to do with me?' Tina questioned hoarsely.
He picked up a strand of her hair and ran his fingers through its silken glow before answering.
'It's very simple, really. I am Man of Fire and you, with your molten hair, are my mate, my Woman of Fire.' He laughed silently.
'How ridiculous!' she blushed, more aware of his touch than she cared to admit.
'Not ridiculous,' he contradicted firmly, 'rather flattering. These natives are fire-worshippers; fire to them is the soul of the universe. You need never fear the Guaharibos tribe in future, Señorita Donnelly, because to them you are a goddess and are therefore sacred. How does it feel to have such a weight of responsibility on such very youthful shoulders?'
She did not immediately understand his pointed emphasis, but then, when his eyes lingered deliberately upon her cascading hair, she gave a gasp of understanding and hurriedly attempted to pin back the offending tresses. Too late, she was remembering the many times her Aunt Chris had teased, 'Tina, darling, when you wear your hair loose like that one could be excused for mistaking you for a schoolgirl!'
Ramon Vegas did not know her aunt, but he knew of her reputation and he must also surely be aware how long it would take to build up such a reputation. When she chanced a look at his stern face, it was very evident that he had already done the necessary mental arithmetic and had reached a conclusion. He knew she had deceived him. How long would it be before his determined probing would unearth the lie she had been living from the first moment they had met?
This question harassed her all during the hours she sat at the chiefs side watching the display of ritual dances that were put on especially to welcome them. One or twice she caught sight of the señor's profile as he leant forward to speak to the chief, who was sitting between them, but he made no attempt to soothe her nervous fears by casting her a reassuring glance or word; he completely ignored her.
Man of Fire Page 9
