River of Destiny (29 page)

‘I suspect our tea has got cold,’ Leo said at last. ‘Shall I put the kettle back on?’

She nodded. ‘I’m freezing.’ She laughed. The words sounded incongruous after the heat of their lovemaking.

‘I’ll get your clothes. I’m afraid I haven’t any blankets on the boat. They get too damp.’ He sat up and cursed as he hit his elbow on the leg of the table. ‘I hope Jade went home and didn’t decide she felt well enough to follow us.’

He knelt up and stuck his head out of the cabin, staring round the cockpit. The landing stage was deserted. ‘It’s getting misty,’ he said. He grabbed her clothes and pushed them down to her, then he reached for his own.

She pulled on her sweater. It was cold and slightly damp from the evening air. She forced her arms into the jacket and zipped it up as he pulled on his jeans. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you for such a long time,’ she said suddenly. She reached up to his face and touched it gently.

He put his hand on her hair. ‘And I you. You have very sexy eyes, Zoë.’

‘I feel sexy all over.’

He laughed. ‘I was coming to that slowly. What is it the poem says: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” We would need all night, of course.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you need to get back?’

For a moment the thought of Ken came between them.

Zoë shook her head. ‘He’s not there. He said he was going to be out late with a client.’ She fell silent as she knelt unmoving on the cabin floor, shivering. ‘I don’t want to go yet.’

He held her gaze and she saw the amusement in his face. ‘Even if it means rowing back in the dark?’

‘I trust you.’

He sat down on the edge of the bunk and leaned forward to put an arm round her. ‘I’m sorry there’s nothing to eat or drink. Tea, though. I can make more tea.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I just want to be quiet here with you. Feel the magic.’

He squeezed her shoulder gently. She slumped sideways against his knees and they stayed like that for a long time, not speaking.

Slowly she became aware of the sounds around them, the gentle ripple and slap of little wavelets on the hull as the wind got up and with it the sigh of the pine branches in the wood behind them. From somewhere up there in the dark came the sharp cry of an owl.

It was full dark by the time Zoë reluctantly forced herself to move. ‘It’s time, Leo. I must get back. Ken will be worried if I’m not there.’

Leo said nothing. He straightened and quietly climbed across her to the cabin door. He went out into the cockpit and stood staring out across the river. The wind had died away again and there was a slight haze over the water. Far above a chilly half moon hung behind a gauzy swathe of cloud.

‘Is there anything out there?’ Zoë emerged behind him. He heard the slight tremor in her voice.

‘Nothing at all,’ he said quietly.

‘Please, Eric, come to bed!’ Edith clutched the bearskin bedcover round her shoulders. Under it she was naked. Outside the house an owl hooted in the trees.

Her husband was pacing up and down the small living space of their cottage, still fully dressed, every now and then pausing to aim a kick at the smouldering logs in their hearth.

‘That sword is my masterpiece. It is the greatest blade I have made or ever will make!’ he muttered furiously. It is called Destiny Maker and it is not destined to be buried in a sick man’s grave! It is a weapon of war. It was made to win battles!’

‘There is nothing you can do, Eric. The sword is delivered and paid for. It is the Lord Egbert’s now, in life or in death, and it was for him to decide what should happen to it.’ She tried to cling to his arm. ‘Please, my darling, come to bed.’

He shook her off, not seeming to notice that she was even there except as a sounding board against which to hurl his invective. ‘I have to do something! That heathen sorcerer put a spell on Lord Egbert. He must have done, to seduce him back to the old gods.’ Suddenly the old gods were mocking him. They had tricked him, lured him on, promised him glory and fame in exchange for a renunciation of the Christian faith, even offering him a son. ‘No Christian is buried with his sword!’ he finished angrily.

‘Are you sure?’ She turned away, hurt by his rejection, feeling the chill of the night against her bare skin. She pulled the fur closer. ‘I thought you loved me, Eric, I thought you needed me!’ It was the eternal plea of the woman who has been set aside for more important things. It had no effect.

‘I will go and speak to Hrotgar again!’ He picked up his cloak and flung it round his shoulders.

‘Eric!’

For one second he paused and looked at her in response to her cry. But his gaze went through her. He turned away and let himself out into the night.

‘Where have you been?’ Ken was sitting in the great room reading the paper. He looked up at her as she came in. He didn’t seem overly concerned.

‘I had a drink with Leo.’ It seemed better to stick as close to the truth as possible. Strangely she didn’t feel guilty. ‘Did you hear about the standoff at the OK Corral? Jackson Watts took a rifle and more or less threatened Rosemary and her friend, Dottie, down at the copse. Leo and I went down to try and stop the massacre. Jade told us her brother had taken a gun and we were somewhat concerned.’

‘Grief!’ Ken went back to the paper. ‘Sounds as though you’ve had more fun than me this evening.’

Zoë bit her lip. If he only knew. She waited for him to say something else but he didn’t. He seemed immersed in the paper.

‘I think I’ll go up then,’ she said after the silence stretched out between them for several seconds. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.’

Ken stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the correspondence page but he wasn’t reading. He heard her sigh and turn away and head for the stairs. She went up slowly and walked along the landing towards their bedroom. One by one the upstairs lights went on, then he heard the bedroom door shut behind her. He lowered the paper onto the coffee table and sat staring at it unseeing.

He had been standing at the high window looking out into the dark wondering where she was when he had seen the two figures walking up from the river, shadowy outlines in the hazy moonlight. He had seen them pause at the gate into Leo’s garden as the moon went behind a cloud. They had thought themselves safe in the darkness but the moon had sailed high again, flooding the garden with silvery light, and he had seen the lingering kiss.

Zoë had turned away at last and headed back towards their house across the grass, triggering the security lights as she approached the front door. The sudden illumination of her face had shown the dreamy happiness there. Abruptly he had turned away from the window and thrown himself down on the sofa, grabbing the paper. He had wondered if there was something going on for a while. He wasn’t sure yet what he intended to do about it. The irony of the situation did not escape him, and he was aware that he was being hypocritical – after all, where had he been all day? – but that did not stop him feeling a wave of jealous fury of a strength that surprised him.

‘There’s a message for you, Dan.’ Benjamin held out his grubby hand. In it was a folded piece of paper. Dan stared at it suspiciously. ‘Who gave you that?’

Benjamin looked mutinous.

Dan reached forward and grabbed him by the ear. ‘Tell me!’

Ben squealed in protest. ‘It was Pip, up at the Hall. He ran down this morning when I was laying the fire. It’s from –’

‘I can guess who it’s from.’ Dan released him. He turned away towards the anvil.

‘Aren’t you going to read it?’ The boy was still holding it out.

‘No.’

‘But I’ll be the one to get into trouble. Me or Pip.’ The boy’s eyes were wide with genuine fear. Dan stared down at him. Was there no one the bitch didn’t terrorise with her selfish demands? He snatched the paper from Ben and took it to the doorway, unfolding it.

Dan
, it said.
Be at the ruins of the old church at midday
. That was it. No signature. No please or thank you, just the raw command.

Dan scrunched it up and, turning, threw it into the furnace. ‘Get blowing,’ he said curtly. ‘We have work to do.’

He did not let up all morning. The sun rose higher in the sky. Midday came and went. He ignored the bread and cheese which Susan brought for him and worked harder making the rims for the cartwheels which lay against the wall. The afternoon was well progressed when Lady Emily rode into the yard. Her face was tight with fury. She rode to the doorway of the forge and shouted for Dan from the saddle. He put down his hammer, wiping the sweat from his eyes. ‘Go home, Ben,’ he said sharply. ‘I shan’t need you again today.’

‘But, there’s more to do.’ Ben shot a scared look at the woman on her horse.

‘Go!’

The boy didn’t wait to be told again. He scuttled out of the door, ducked behind the cob and ran round the back of the forge out of sight. Dan walked up to her and took the bridle in his hand. He turned the cob and led it towards the barn and in between the high doors. There he stopped.

‘I told you, no more,’ he said curtly.

‘You will do as I say!’ she answered. Her voice was icy.

In the corner stall Bella shifted restlessly. George had brought her in from the orchard earlier and filled her manger with chaff.

‘Tell me something.’ Dan stared up at her, his anger so great he was no longer capable of being careful how he chose his words. ‘Why is it the squire isn’t able to sire his own brats?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘That is none of your business.’

‘Oh, I think it is my business, my lady. You come down here and you throw your rank in my face, and you give me orders which will destroy my marriage and you cheat on a good man and you make yourself a doxy and me into a liar and an adulterer, and you tell me it isn’t my business!’

‘He can’t father a child,’ she said quietly. ‘Isn’t that enough for you?’

‘He fathered one on his first wife. Mrs Crosby was a good and gentle lady. She would never have cheated on him.’

He saw the colour flare into her cheeks. Her eyes were like slate. ‘Things have happened since then which are not your concern.’

‘If he’s impotent, he will know any child you bear is not his.’

‘He’s not impotent.’

‘Then?’ He could feel his anger bubbling in his chest like molten metal.

‘Suffice to say that he cannot father a child!’

‘And he doesn’t know this?’

‘No.’

‘So how is it that you know?’

‘Because I can’t conceive. Because nothing happens. Because I went to see someone –’ She bit her lip as though regretting what she had said.

‘A doctor?’

‘No.’ Her shoulders slumped.

‘Who then? If you won’t tell me this conversation ceases.’ Absent-mindedly he stroked the cob’s nose as it grew restless, not taking his eyes off her face.

‘If you must know it was a gypsy woman. She read my cards and she told me that I would never bear a child with my husband.’ She glared at him defiantly.

‘You took the word of a gypsy woman?’ he echoed incredulously. Suddenly he began to laugh; it was a harsh and humourless sound. ‘All this misery and anguish is because you consulted a gypsy fortune-teller!’