Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 16

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while on board the inward flight.  From his window he looked across the

garden of Gethsemane at the old city, at its turrets and spires and the

blazing golden Dome of the Rock, centre of Christianity and Judaism,

holy place of the Moslems, battleground of two A thousand years, ancient

land reborn, and David felt a sense of awe.  For the first time in his

life, he recognized and examined that portion of himself that was

Jewish, and he thought it was right that he should have come to this

city.

Perhaps, he said aloud, it's just possible that this is where it's all

at.

It was early evening when David paid off the cab in the car park of the

University and submitted to a perfunctory search by a guard at the main

gate.  Here body search was a routine that would soon become so familiar

as to pass unnoticed.  He was surprised to find the campus almost

deserted, until he remembered it was Friday and that the whole tempo was

slowing for the Sabbath.

The red-bud trees were in full bloom around the main plaza and the

ornamental pool, as David crossed to the admin block and asked for her

at the inquiries desk where the porter was on the point of leaving his

post.

Miss Mordecai, the porter checked his list.  Yes.

English Department.  On the second floor of the Lauterman building.  He

pointed out through the glass doors.  Third building on your right.  Go

right on in.  Debra was in a students tutorial, and while he waited for

her, he found a seat on the terrace in the warmth of the sun.  It was as

well, for suddenly he felt a breath of uncertainty cooling his spine.

For the first time since leaving Athens, he wondered if he had much

cause to expect a hearty welcome from Debra Mordecai.  Even at this

remove in time, David had difficulty in judging his own behaviour

towards her.  Self-criticism was an art which David had never seriously

practised; with a face and fortune such as his, it was seldom necessary.

In this time of waiting he found it novel and uncomfortable to admit

that it was just possible that his behaviour may have been, as Debra had

told him, that of a spoiled child.

He was still exploring this thought, when a burst of voices and the

clatter of heels upon the flags distracted him and a group of students

came out on to the terrace, hugging their books to their chests, and

most of the girls glanced at him with quick speculative attention as

they passed.

There was a pause then before Debra came.  She carried books under her

arm and a sling bag over one shoulder, and her hair was pulled back

severely at the nape of her neck; she wore no make-up, but her skirt was

brightly coloured in big summery whorls of orange.

Her legs were bare and her feet were thrust into leather sandals.  She

was in deep conversation with the two students who flanked her, and she

did not see David until he stood up from the parapet.  Then she froze

into that special stillness he had first noticed in the cantina at

Zaragoza.

David was surprised to find how awkward he felt, as though his feet and

hands had grown a dozen sizes.  He grinned and made a shrugging,

self-deprecatory gesture.

Hello, Debs.  His voice sounded gruff in his own ears, and Debra stirred

and made a panicky attempt to brush back the wisps of hair at her

temples, but the books hampered her.

David, She started towards him, a pace before she hesitated and stopped,

glancing at her students.  Then sensed her confusion and melted, and she

swung back at him.

David, she repeated, and then her expression crumbled into utter

desolation.  Oh God, and I haven't even a shred of lipstick on.  David

laughed with relief and went towards her, spreading his arms, and she

flew at him and it was all confusion with books and sling bag muddled,

and Debra making breathless exclamations of frustration before she could

divest herself of them.  Then at last they embraced.

David, she murmured with both arms wound tightly around his neck.  You

beast, what on earth took you so long?  I had almost given you up. Debra

had a motor scooter which she drove with such murderous abandon that she

frightened even the Jerusalem taxi-drivers who crossed her path, men

with a reputation for steel nerves and disregard for danger.

Perched on the pillion David clung to her waist and remonstrated with

her gently as she overtook a solid line of traffic and then cut smartly

across a stream coming in the opposite direction with her exhaust

popping merrily.  I'm happy, she explained over her shoulder.  Fine!

Then let's live to enjoy it.  "Joe will be surprised to see you.  Jr we

ever get there.  'What's happened to your nerve?  'I've just this minute

lost it.  She went down the twisting road into the valley of Em Karem,

as though she was driving a Mirage, and called a travelogue back to him

as she went.

That's the Monastery of Mary's Well where she met the mother of John the

Baptist, according to the Christian tradition in which you are a

professed expert.  Hold the history, pleaded David.

There's a bus around that bend.

The village was timeless amongst the olive trees, dug into the slope

with its churches and monasteries and high-walled gardens, an oasis of

the picturesque, while the skyline above it was cluttered with the

high-rise apartments of modern Jerusalem.

From the main street Debra scooted into the mouth of a narrow lane,

where high walls of time-worn stone rose on each hand, and braked to a

halt outside a forbidding iron gate.

Home, she said, and wheeled the scooter into the gatehouse and locked it

away before letting them in through a side gate hidden in a corner of

the wall.

They came out into a large garden court enclosed by the high rough

plastered walls which were lime-washed to glaring white.  There were

olive trees growing in the court with thick twisted trunks.  Vines

climbed the walls and spread their boughs overhead; already there were

bunches of green grapes forming upon them.

The Brig is a crazy keen amateur archaeologist, Debra indicated the

Roman and Greek statues that stood amongst the olive trees, the exhibits

of pottery arnphorae arranged around the walls, and the ancient mosaic

tiles which paved the pathway to the house, It's strictly against the

law, of course, but he spends all his spare time digging around in the

old sites.  The kitchen was cavernous with an enormous open fireplace in

which a modern electric stove looked out of place, but the copper pots

were burnished until they glowed and the tiled floor was polished and

sweet smelling.

Debra's mother was a tall slim woman with a quiet manner, who looked

like Debra's older sister.  The family resemblance was striking and, as

she greeted them, David thought with pleasure that this was how Debra

would look at the same age.  Debra introduced them and announced that

David was a guest for dinner, a fact of which he had been unaware until

that moment.

Please, he protested quickly, I don't want to intrude.  He knew that

Friday was a special night in the Jewish home.

You don't intrude.  We will be honoured, she brushed aside his protest.

This house is home for most of the boys on Joe's squadron, we enjoy it.

Debra fetched David a Goldstar beer and they were sitting on the terrace

together when her father arrived.

He came in through the wicket gate, stooping his tall frame under the

stone lintel and taking off his uniform cap as he entered the garden.

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