Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur. Страница 146

You are so hard and strong, Manfred, so white and hard and beautiful, It was moments before he realized what she had said, but her fingers were stroking and caressing, and all rational thought ebbed out of his mind. He was conscious only of the hands and the murmured endearments and praise, then he was aware of something else, a warm musky odour wafted up from her belly against which his face was pressed. Though he did not recognize it as the smell of a healthy young woman physically aroused and ripe for love, yet his own reaction to it was instinctive and no longer to be denied.

Heidi, his voice shook wildly. I love you. Forgive me, God, but I love you so. Yes, mein Schatz, I know, she whispered. And I love you also. She pushed him back gently upon the bed and standing over him began slowly to unbutton the front of the white blouse. As she came over him, her big silky white breasts, tipped with ruby, were the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

I love you, he cried so many times during that night, each time in a different voice of wonder and awe and ecstasy, for the things she did with him and for him, surpassed all s imaginings.

For the first day of the finals of the track and field events,

Shasa had managed to finagle team tickets for the girls, but the seats were high in the north stand. Mathilda Janine had borrowed Shasa's binoculars and was anxiously scanning the great arena far below them.

I can't see him, she waited.

He's not out yet, Shasa reassured her. They are running the hundred metres first, I But he was as strung out as she was. in the semifinal heat of the 200-metre dash, David Abrahams had run second to the great American athlete Jesse Owens, the Ebony Antelope, and so had secured his place in the final event.

I'm so nervous I think I am going to have a fit of the vapours. Mathilda Janine gasped without lowering the binoculars, on Shasa's other side Tara was as agitated, but for different reasons.

It's outrageous, she said, so vehemently that Shasa turned to her surprised.

What is? Haven't you been listening to a word? You know David will be coming out at any moment. I'm sorry,, He was drowned out by a deafening thunder of applause and the banks of spectators rose to their feet as the finalists in the hundred-metre dash sprang from the blocks and sped down their lanes; as they crossed the finish line, the quality of the sound changed, groans mixed with the ovation for the winner.

There! Tara caught Shasa's arm. Listen to them. Near them in the crowd a voice called, Another American negro wins. And closer still, The Americans should be ashamed to let the black animals wear their colours. These bigots are disgusting. Tara glared around her, trying to identify the speakers in the sea of faces that surrounded them and when she failed turned back to Shasa. The Germans are threatening to disallow all medals won by what they call the inferior races, the blacks and the Jews, she said in a loud voice. They are disgusting. Cool down, Shasa whispered.

Don't you care? Tara challenged him. David is a Jew. Of course I care, he said quietly, glancing around in embarrassment. But do shut up, Tara, there's a brick., I think, Tara's voice rose in direct response to Shasa's appeal, but Mathilda Janine screamed even more piercingly.

There he is, there's David! With relief Shasa spran& to his feet. There he is, go it, Davie boy. Run like a hairy springbok! The finalists for the 200-metre dash had clustered at the far end of the arena and were jogging on the spot, windmilling their arms and going through their warm-up routines.

Isn't David just indescribable? Mathilda Janine demanded.

think that describes him perfectly, Shasa agreed, and she punched his arm.

You know what I mean. Then the group of athletes spread out to their blocks and the starter stepped forward. once more silence descended on the vast arena, and the runners were crouched down, frozen in a rigour of concentration.

The pistol fired, at this distance a pop of sound, and the athletes hurled themselves forward in a perfect line, long legs flashing, arms pumping high, they sped away on a rising wave of sound, and the line lost its perfection, bulged in the centre; a lean dark panther of a man pulled out ahead and the roar of the crowd became articulate.

JesSe Owens! repeated in a soaring chant, while the dark man flashed over the finish line pulling a bunch of other runners behind him.

What happened? Mathilda Janine screamed.

Jesse Owens won, Shasa shouted to make himself heard in the uproar.

I know that, but David, what happened to David? I don't know. I couldn't see. It was all so close. They waited in a fever until the loudspeakers boomed their stentorian command.

Achtung! Achtung! and they heard the names in the jumble of German.

Jesse Owens, Carter Brown, David Abrahams. Mathilda Janine shrieked. Catch me, I'm going to faint.

David got the bronze! She was still shrieking, and hopping up and down on the spot, tears of wild joy running unheeded down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, while on the green field below a thin gangling figure in shorts and running vest climbed up onto the inferior step of the victors pyramid and bowed his head as the ribbon with the bronze medal dangling from it was draped around his neck.

The four of them began their celebration that evening in the salon of Centaines suite at the Bristol. Blaine made a short speech of congratulation while David stood in the middle of the floor looking bashful and self-conscious as they toasted him in champagne. Because it was for David, Shasa drank the whole glass of the magnificent 1929 Bollinger that Centaine provided for the occasion.

He drank another full glass of Sekt at the Caf& am Kudamm, on the corner of the Kurfarstendamm, just down the street from the hotel and then the four of them linked arms and set off down Berlin's notorious fun street. All the signs of decadence that the Nazis had banned, the Coca-Cola bottles on the sidewalk tables, and the strains of jazz from the cafe bands, the movie posters of Clark Gable and Myma Loy, were once more in evidence, allowed back under special dispensation for the duration of the Olympics only.

They stopped at another cafe, and this time Shasa ordered a schnapps.

Slow down,David whispered to him, he knew that Shasa seldom drank alcohol, and then never more than a single glass of wine or beer.

Davie my boy, it's not every day that an old mate of mine wins an Olympic medal. He was flushed under his tan and his eyes had a feverish glitter.

Well, I for one refuse to carry you home, David warned.

They went on down the Ku-damm. and Shasa had the girls in fits of giggles at his nonsense humour.

and then, stunningly,

Ach so, meine lieblings, dis is de famousa Kranzlers coffee house, no? We will enter and drink a leetle champagne, yes? That's Italian, not German,Tara pointed out. And I think you are sloshed. 'Sloshed is a foul word on fair lips,, Shasa told her, and marched her into the elegant coffee shop.

Not more champagne, Shasa, David protested.

My dear boy, you don't suggest I should drink everlasting life to you in beer, now do you? Shasa snapped his fingers to summon the waitress and she poured four tulip glasses of the seething yellow wine.

They were all four laughing and chattering so that for some seconds none of them was aware of the sudden tense silence that had descended on the crowded coffee shop.

Oh dear, Tara murmured. Here come the cavalry., Six brown-uniformed storm troopers had entered the room. They had obviously been to some ceremony or function of their regiment, for two of them carried furled banners. It was just as obvious that they had already been drinking; their attitude was bellicose and swaggering and some of the other customers of the coffee shop hurriedly gathered their hats and coats, paid their bills and left the room.