The river lord

by Kay Thorpe

  Keely made no demur when he jumped down into the shallow lap of water against the muddy slope of bank and lifted her bodily out to carry her on to dry land. She felt sick and listless and her head ached with a deep steady throbbing which would not let up. She felt Greg scan her features sharply as he set her back on her feet, but be made no comment other than to tell her to stay where she was for the moment while he went forward alone.

  As before, the whole village had turned out to view the visitors with round-eyed curiosity, appearing from every palm-thatched but and every direction to stand in a crowded semi-circle and stare. Ill as she felt, Keely could not fail to be aware of the excitement she herself appeared to be causing. Her hair again, no doubt. A sudden chill ran through her and she shivered, despite the enervating heat.

  Her limbs seemed not to belong to her, her knees to have turned to jelly.

  `Are you all right?' Jason asked worriedly as he and Mark joined her. 'You look just about all in.'

  `Just a bit of a chill, I think,' she managed on a reasonably level note, and heard Mark give a small exclamation.

  `There's no such thing as a "bit of a chill" out here.' He put out a hand and touched her flushed face, his own growing concerned. 'You've got a fever, child. Have you been taking your Paludrine?'

  `Of course.' Keely tried to smile. 'How can I have a fever when I feel so cold?'

  `You only feel cold inside. Your skin is hot.' He sounded as if he were trying to keep the whole thing on a rational level. 'You'd better have some Chloroquin as soon as we can break open the pack. And you need to rest properly if these people can provide somewhere quiet and dry. Thank goodness they don't appear to live communally in this tribe.'

  Greg came back to where they stood, leaving the "headman" waiting at the spot where they had talked.

  `We're welcome,' he said. 'A few reservations, but nothing to worry about. They'll provide us with a couple of huts and they're ready to share what food they have available.'

  'Keely is ill,' Jason cut in abruptly.

  `I know.' Greg didn't even bother to glance in his direction. 'The women will look after her.'

  Keely found herself swung into strong arms again and carried effortlessly forward. The massed throng of men, women and children, parted to let Greg through with his burden, the comment loud and excited, yet with an undercurrent of sympathy as if in realisation of her condition. She felt him stoop a little as though to pass beneath something, then there was the blessed dimness of palm thatch

  above her head and he was lowering her to some kind of raised platform covered in palm mats, lifting her head with unbelievable gentleness to slip something soft and yielding beneath it in support.

  The world was swimming unrealistically about her, Greg's face wavering above hers like some dark devil. Her whole body was soaked in perspiration, the throbbing in her head like red-hot hammers, drowning out rational thought in a mist of pain and dizziness. Vaguely she was aware of hands moving over her removing her clothing, yet it was as if it was happening to someone outside of herself. The shivering intensified by the moment and yet she felt burning hot on the outside. Some kind of covering was thrown lightly over her. She heard the sound of movement coming as though from a great distance, fading gradually along with the light until she was sinking down into one deep, dark bottomless pit.

  There were periods of semi-lucidness in the hours which followed, but nothing seemed real. Faces swam above her like disembodied entities; hands lifted her, held vessels for her to drink from, sponged her with cool water, but none of it touched her. Occasionally she was aware of a difference in the way she was handled, of tempered strength in the arm supporting her. She knew it was Greg, but the knowledge brought no reaction. The whole world had receded to a distance which made feeling of any kind remote.

  Her first return to full consciousness brought little change in that sense of remoteness. She lay there blinking at the narrow shaft of sunlight coming into the but through the door opening and couldn't even find it in herself to wonder where everyone was. The mat covering her was made from woven palm fibre; beneath it she was naked. That realisation gave rise to some small stirring of emotion, though not enough to bother her unduly. She felt cool and comfortable, if somewhat dreadfully weak.

  Greg appeared without warning in her line of vision, lifting the draped net to look down at her assessingly. 'Back with us again?' he queried. 'It's not before time.'

  `How long have I been ill?' Her voice sounded surprisingly strong.

  `Roughly sixteen hours.' He put a hand to her brow and then down one cheek, his touch oddly impersonal. 'No fever now. The Chloroquin did the trick.'

  She considered that for a moment before saying, 'Have I had malaria?'

  `I'm not sure what it was.' Very slightly his voice roughened. 'It could have been worse if we hadn't had the right stuff with us.'

  `But you thought of everything.' There was no sarcasm in her tone, she was just making a statement. 'Where's Mark, and Jason?'

  `In their own hut.' The faintest of smiles just touched his lips. 'I told you they'd split us up.'

  `Yes.' She still couldn't react. 'Have you found the Fire Flower?'

  `They've been shown where it grows, and allowed to take samples.' He paused. 'Thanks to you.'

  To me?' She blinked a little, not understanding. `What ...'

  `Your hair puts you in a rather special position so far as these people are concerned. It's not all that far off the very colour of the plant they regard as a symbol of purity.' Face expressionless, he added, 'Odd, isn't it, how different ideas can be. White to them is the colour of mourning.'

  `Lucky I wasn't ash-blonde.' Keely turned her head suddenly away from him, knowing her own expression had changed. She was coming alive again, and it hurt. She didn't want to remember what Greg was or had been prior to this moment. She didn't want to remember any of it. 'I suppose I should thank you for getting me over this.'

  `You don't owe me anything.'- This time there was no mistaking the roughness. 'Call it all square. Want your clothes?'

  `Yes.' She felt the warmth run up into her face and knew that he had seen it too.

  `Don't go soft on me now,' he said. 'I've seen a naked woman before. We're surrounded by them, in case you hadn't noticed.'

  `That's different.'

  `Is it? I fail to see how. You were ill and you needed looking after. That's all it meant.'

  She said painfully, 'You told Jason the women would see to me.'

  `Think they could have coped with buttons and zips, never having seen them before?' Irony infiltrated. 'Or perhaps you'd have preferred Jason himself to help you out of your things '

  `He wouldn't have had your expertise !'

  `That's more like it. Now I know you're on the way to recovery. You'd better wait a bit before trying to make any sudden movements. You're going to feel pretty weak for a day or two. Hungry at all?'

  She moved her head in negative reply, then said, 'I could do with a drink. My throat feels like a desert.'

  `There's bound to be a certain dehydration. You had a temperature of a hundred and four at one point.' He moved to one side, returning a moment later holding one of their own enamel mugs from the Dorita. 'It's only sterilised water, but at least it's been de-tasted. Can you manage to sit up a bit if I help you?'

  There was little point in clinging on to outraged modesty, but instinct still guided her to hold the covering about her as his arm slid under her shoulders. The liquid in the cup was warm to taste but wonderful. Supported by Greg's arm with her cheekbone close to the front of his shirt, she wished

  irrationally that she could stay there for ever. Whatever he had said or done in the past there was no one else who could make her feel this way. She wondered what his reaction would be how if she gave way to impulse and turned her face into his chest. She needed so badly to cling to his strength, to soak it in.

  `I told you you were safe,' he said harshly, feeling the tremor run through her. 'I don't make l
ove to invalids.'

  Keely waited until he had let her down again and moved slightly away before saying unevenly, Did you ever really intend to make me go through with it, Greg?'

  He shrugged, 'That's something you'll have to work out for yourself. Why don't you try to sleep for a while? You'll be stronger when you wake up again, and probably ready for food.'

  `How soon before I'm fit to travel?' The words were forced. 'Tomorrow?'

  `Perhaps the next day. It isn't going to be an easy trip - back.'

  `None of it has been easy,' she said. 'At least going back will be faster. I can't wait to get out of this country !'

  `No.' For a fleeting moment there seemed to be an odd look about his face, then it was gone and only the familiar tautness remained. 'You're not cut out for this kind of life. Go to sleep. I'll see your things are brought in later.'

  Not cut out for this kind of life. But she could be, Keely thought numbly, if she could live it with him. He belonged here. He fitted. He could teach her to fit, but he wouldn't. Greg Stirling needed no woman that badly.

  Surprisingly she did sleep, wakening again to the deeper glow of mid-afternoon and a ravening hunger. Her clothing had been brought into the but while she slept, and lay neatly folded on a sort of rough stool close by.

  She felt lightheaded when she cautiously sat up to swing her legs over the side of the sleeping platform, but that

  soon passed. Providing she made no undue exertion in her movements she found herself quite capable of dressing, closing her mind to the possibility of Greg walking in on her while she was doing so.

  There was stupor in the compound at this hour of the day, the few people who remained outdoors squatting lethargically in groups. Keely's appearance in the doorway of her but kindled some interest, but it was left to one of the women to go and fetch Greg from another but some distance away.

  `Better?' he asked as he came up to where she stood waiting for him.

  She nodded, finding a smile from somewhere. 'And hungry. I don't suppose there's any chance of European food?'

  `We've got some powdered soup mix, and I've broken out the stove we brought from the boat. How does thick vegetable sound?'

  `Marvellous I) Why haven't we used it before?'

  `Emergency rations. It's better to live off the land whilever you can.' He nodded in the direction of the but from which he had come. 'It's already on. I thought you'd be coming round soon. Think you can manage to walk that far?'

  `Of course.' She took a step forward into the full glaring heat and felt her legs buckle a little. Greg's arm came about her waist, supporting her lightly but effectively.

  `Don't try to, be too fast,' he said. 'Fever and a liquid diet doesn't make for a steady head.'

  Neither did the touch of his hand. Keely steeled herself against a repetition of that quivering reaction he had mistaken for fear of him last time. If there had been anything at all between them it was over now. She must keep reminding herself of that. Greg no longer even wanted her physically—he couldn't have made that plainer. Odd to

  think that a bare week ago she had hated the idea of his even touching her, and now ...

  Perhaps it was fortunate, she reflected dryly, that his intentions had changed. Weak as she was, she would have been incapable of putting up much of a struggle.

  The soup was delicious. Keely ate it sitting in the doorway of the but under the fascinated scrutiny of several of the village children The little gas cylinder was regarded with awe, especially when Greg turned down the flame and then made it leap again for their benefit. Fire in their world was still made by the time-honoured process, although with a degree of success most Boy Scouts would give their eye teeth for.

  The Colbys had gone hunting in the forest for specimens, taking with them their own four Indians for protection. There was also, Keely learned, a party out hunting for food which had been gone since early morning and would not return until evening. Some crops were planted out behind the village, but the cassava root known locally as yuka still formed the main part of a monotonous diet. Given a little soup to taste, the children spat it out with expressions of disgust, obviously finding the seasoning totally unpalatable.

  `What happened to my camera case?' Keely asked at one point, glancing back into the dim interior of the hut. 'I missed getting a few shots of the village as we approached.'

  `Hardly surprising.' Greg indicated a pile of stuff in the far corner. 'It's over there, safe and sound.'

  `I hope the film I left on the boat will be safe,' she fretted. `You don't think Quito or Mantos would take it into their heads to go messing around with it, do you?'

  `They know better. Anything wrong on board that boat when we get back and have their hides.' He paused. 'Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, I'll take you in to where this plant grows. You said you wanted to show it in its natural setting.'

  `Yes, I did.' She was surprised he should have remembered—or having remembered, cared enough to make the offer. Perhaps now the source of controversy had been re-

  moved they could start becoming friends. At least it would

  be contact of a sort. She leaned her back against the side of the doorway, taking in the scene before her. 'Hard to believe this is real. I keep expecting somebody to cry "cut and print !" ' A moment later she added, 'If the Fire Flower is worn from puberty onwards why aren't those three over there wearing it?'

  `Because it's only used on special occasions ... festivals; celebrations.'

  She cast an oblique glance. `So they were celebrating something when you were here last?'

  `Yes.' A smile touched his lips. 'Lucky my instincts were up to par or I might have landed in a sticky situation. I was all set to ask for a sample to bring back before I realised there had to be some significance to the use of them other than just ornaments.'

  Keely scooped up a handful of dust from the ground and let it trickle back through her fingers. 'An Indian wife would have been something of a liability, I suppose.'

  No more than any other.' His tone didn't alter.

  `Oh, yes, I was forgetting. We're all the same under the skin.'

  `If you're looking for a retraction you're not going to get it.' He sounded a little harder but not off-puttingly so. `You've got more spunk than most when it comes to going after something you want, but it doesn't alter the fact that you were willing to tread on anyone or anything to get it.'

  `I'd say you've been doing quite a bit of treading yourself,' she murmured.

  `You asked for it.' His head was turned so that she could only see one side of his face, and that unrevealing. 'I should have settled with you that first night at Paul's place and left you there. It would have saved all this.'

  It was a moment before she could bring herself to say it. `But you didn't, because I was a means of getting something back on account for what that woman in Peru did to you. She's the one you've been putting through the mill.'

  `More analysis?' The laugh was short. 'You should try getting your facts straight first, honey. She didn't let me down. I refused to go along with the way she wanted things, so she accused me of trying to persuade her into an affair. Her husband being a top-ranking official, it seemed policy to make myself scarce.'

  `So you weren't asked to leave the country?'

  `If I'd hung around for reactions I might not have got the chance.' He glanced her way. 'Disappointed?'

  Disillusioned would have been nearer the mark, she thought. The idea that he had once been enough in love to get hurt had lent him a small area of vulnerability. Now there was none. Not that it made any difference ultimately. 'Do you plan to spend the rest of your life like this?' she asked.

  `There are worse ways. I've got everything I need out here.'

  `Except purpose.'

  `Just staying alive is a purpose.'

  Tor the Indians, perhaps. They don't know any better. But you ...' She stopped, biting her lip as he turned a penetrating gaze on her.

  `Go on,' he said. 'Don't leave it th
ere. What makes me different from the other savages?'

  `You're educated to a wider outlook,' she said at length. `Intelligent. You could probably be anything you wanted to be.'

  `I am what I want to be. How many times do I have to say it? And since when was intelligence a product of education?' He was beginning to sound intolerant again. 'If I'd

  been born right here in this village and never left it I might not be able to say where China is on the map, but I'd still have exactly the same size brain. These people don't only have intelligence, they've full use of all their senses. That story about the one-eyed man being king in the country of the blind is so much eyewash!'

  `You're changing the issue,' she protested. 'That wasn't what I was trying to say, and you know it !'

  `I don't think you know what you're trying to say.' His voice was brusque. 'Any more than you know what you want. Leave well alone, green eyes. You'll soon be back where you belong.'

  Without Greg the thought held no appeal. For a brief moment she had been on the verge of a break-through; she sensed that much. But she had let it go. The chance would not come again.

  It was almost dark before the Colbys returned. Jason greeted Keely with reserve though not without concern for her state of health. The hunting party had been back some time, their efforts successful enough to have brought a surge of activity to the female half of the population. The cooking fires were going full blast with carcases sizzling juices over them. Keely found the deer acceptable as food, but turned her eyes away from the pathetically human monkey victims. Only dire necessity could have compelled her to touch such meat.

  None of the white party did so, as it turned out, although the Indians they had brought up river with them fell to with a will, though staying apart from their contemporaries. Far from being the brothers of the forest Keely had imagined, there seemed more suspicion between the differing tribes than they themselves could elicit. Without Greg to vouch for the four of them there was every possibility that they would have received short shrift at the hands of the villagers. It might explain why the others had been so re-