Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur. Страница 135

Oh, don't play the saint with me, Blaine Malcomess. I may be locked into this chair, but I see things and I hear things. I don't wish to continue like this. He stood up. We'll talk again once you have control Sit down! she screeched at him. I won't have you running off to your French whore as you always do! He flinched as though she had struck him in the face, and she went on gloatingly, There, I've said it at last. Oh God, you'll never know how close I've been to saying it so many times. You'll never know how good it feels to say it, whore! Doxy! If you continue, I will leave, he warned.

Harlot, she said with relish. Slut! Jade! He turned on his heel and went down the steps of the gazebo two at a time.

Blaine, she screamed after him. Come back! He continued walking up towards the house, and her tone changed.

Blaine, I'm sorry. I apologize. Please come back. Please! and he could not refuse her. Reluctantly he turned back, and found that his hands were shaking with shock and anger.

He thrust them into his pockets and stopped at the top of the steps.

All right, he said softly. It's true about Centaine Courtney. I love her. But it is also true that we have done everything in our power to prevent you being hurt or humiliated.

So don't ever talk like that about her again. If she had allowed it, I would have gone to her years ago, and left you.

May God forgive me, but I would have walked out on you!

Only she kept me here, only she still keeps me here. She was chastened and shaken as he was, or so he thought, until she raised her eyes again and he saw that she had feigned repentance merely to lure him back within range of her tongue. I know I cannot go to Berlin with you, Blaine.

I have already asked Dr Joseph and he has forbidden it. He says the journey would kill me. However, I know what you are planning, you and that woman. I know you have used all your influence to get Shasa Courtney into the team merely to give her an excuse to be there. I know you are planning a wonderful illicit interlude, and I can't stop you going, He spread his hands in angry resignation. It was useless to protest and her voice rose again into that harrowing shrillness.

Well, let me tell you this, it isn't going to be the honeymoon that the two of you think it is. I've told the girls, both Tara and Mathilda Janine, that they are going with you.

I've told them already, and they are beside themselves with excitement. it will be up to you. Either you are heartless enough to disappoint your own daughters, or you will be playing baby-sitter and not Romeo in Berlin. Her voice rose even higher, and the glitter of her eyes was vindictive. And I warn you! if you refuse to take them with you, Blaine Malcomess, I will tell them why. I call on God as my witness, I will tell them that their beloved daddy is a cheat and a liar, a libertine and a whoremaster! Although everybody, from the most knowledgeable sports writers to the lowliest fight fan, had confidently expected Manfred De La Rey to be on the boxing squad to go to Berlin, when the official announcement of the team was made and he was indeed the light heavyweight selection, but in addition Roelf Stander was the heavyweight choice and the Reverend Tromp Bierman was given the duties of official team coach, the entire town and university body of Stellenbosch erupted in spontaneous expressions of pride and delight.

There was a civic reception and parade through the streets of the town, while at a mass meeting of the Ossewa Brandwag the commanding general held them up as an example of Afrikaner manhood and extolled their dedication and fighting skills.

It is young men such as these who will lead our nation to its rightful place in this land, he told them, and while the massed uniformed ranks gave the OB salute, the clenched right fist held across the chest, Manfred and Roelf had the badges of officer rank pinned to their tunics.

For God and the Volk, their high commander exhorted them, and Manfred had never before experienced such pride, such determination to honour the trust that had been placed in him.

over the weeks that followed, the excitement continued to build up. There were fittings at the official team tailor for the gold and green blazers, white slacks and broad-brimmed Panama hats which made up the uniform in which they would march into the Olympic stadium. There were endless team briefings, covering every subject from German etiquette and polite behaviour to travel arrangements and profiles of the opponents whom they were likely to encounter on the way to the final.

Both Manfred and Roelf were interviewed by journalists from every magazine and newspaper in the country, and a half an hour on the nationally broadcast radio programme This is your Land was devoted entirely to them.

Only one person seemed unaffected by the excitement.

The weeks you are away will seem longer than my whole life, Sarah told Manfred.

Don't be a silly little duck, he laughed at her. It will all be over before you know it, and I'll be back with a gold medal on my chest. Don't call me a silly little duck,she flashed at him, not ever again! He stopped laughing. You are right, he said. You are worth more than that. Sarah had taken on herself the duties of timekeeper and second for Manfred's and Roelf's evening training runs. On flying bare feet she took short cuts up the hillside and through the forest to wait for them at prearranged spots with her stopwatch, borrowed from Uncle Tromp, a wet sponge and a flask of cold freshly squeezed orange juice to refresh them. As soon as they had sponged down, drunk and set off again she would race away, cutting over the crest of the hill or through the valley to wait for them at the next stage.

Two weeks before the sailing date, Roelf was forced to miss one of the evening runs when he was obliged to chair an extraordinary meeting of the students representative council and Manfred made the run alone.

He took the long steep side of the Hartenbosch mountain at a full run, going with all his strength, flying up the slope with long elastic strides, lifting his gaze to the crest. Sarah was waiting for him there, and the low autumn sun was behind her, crowning her with gold and striking through the thin stuff of her skirts so that her legs were silhouetted and he could see every line and lovely angle of her body almost as though she were unclothed.

He pulled up involuntarily in full stride and stood staring up at her, his chest heaving and his heart pounding, not only from his exertions.

She is beautiful. He was amazed that he had never seen it before, and he walked up the last angle of the slope slowly, staring at her, confused by this sudden realization and by the hollow hunger, the need that he had kept suppressed, whose existence he had never admitted to himself but which now suddenly threatened to consume him.

She came to meet him the last few paces; barefoot she was so much smaller than he was and that seemed only to increase this terrible hunger. She held out the sponge to him, but when he made no move to take it from her, she stepped up close to him and reached up to wipe the sweat from his neck and shoulders.

I dreamed last night we were back in the camp, she whispered as she worked, swabbing his upper arms. Do you remember the camp beside the railway tracks, Manie? He nodded. His throat had closed, and he could not reply.

I saw my ma lying in the grave. It was a terrible thing.

Then it changed, Manie, it wasn't my ma any more, it was you. You were so pale and handsome, but I knew I had lost you, and I was so eaten by my own sorrow that I wanted to die also and be with you for ever. He reached out and took her in his arms and she sobbed and fell against him. Her body felt so cool and soft and compliant and her voice shook.

Oh, Manie. I don't want to lose you. Please come back to me, without you I don't want to go on living. I love you, Sarie. His voice was hoarse and she jerked in his arms.