Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 81

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expecting more, but when nothing further came his expression eased and

he did look at David, for the first time truly seeing the terribly

ravaged head, the obscene travesty of human shape, and suddenly he

thought on it from David's side, whereas before he had considered it

only as a father.

His eyes dropped and he turned to replenish his whisky glass.

If I can give her sight, I will do it.  Even though it will be an

expensive gift for me, she must take it.  David felt his voice

trembling.  But I believe that she loves me enough to spurn it, if she

were ever given the choice.  I do not want her ever to be tortured by

that choice.  The Brig lifted his glass and took a deep swallow, half

the contents at a gulp.

As you wish, he acquiesced, and it may have been the whisky, but his

voice sounded husky with an emotion David had never suspected before.

Thank you, sir.  David set down his own glass, still untasted.  If

you'll excuse me, I think I should go and change now.  He moved to the

door.

David!  the Brig called to him and he turned back.

The gold tooth gleamed in the dark bristly patch of mustache, as the

Brig smiled a strangely embarrassed but gentle smile.

You'll do, he said.

The reception was in the banquet-room at the Heerengracht Hotel, and as

David and Debra rode up together in the elevator, she seemed to sense

his dread, for she squeezed his arm.

Stay close to me tonight, she murmured.  I'll need you, and he knew it

was said to distract him and he was grateful to her.  They would be a

freak show, and even though he was sure most of the guests had been

prepared, yet he knew it would be an ordeal.  He leaned to brush her

cheek with his.

Her hair was loose and soft, very dark and glossy and the sun had gilded

her face to gold.  She wore a plain green sheath that fell in simple

lines to the floor, but left her arms and shoulders bare.  They were

strong and smooth, with the special lustre of the skin highlighting the

smooth flow of her flesh.

She wore little make-up, a light touch on the lips only, and the serene

expression of her eyes enhanced the simple grace of her carriage as she

moved on his arm, giving David just that courage he needed to face the

crowded room.

it was an elegant gathering, women in rich silks and jewellery, the men

dark-suited, with the heaviness of body and poise which advertises power

and wealth, but the Brig stood out amongst them, even in a civilian

suit, lean and hard where they were plump and complacent like a falcon

amongst a flock of pheasants.

He brought Reuben Friedman to them and introduced them casually.  He was

a short heavily built man, with a big alert head seeming out of

proportion to his body.

His hair was cropped short and grizzled to the round skull, but David

found himself liking the bright bird eyes and the readiness of his

smile.  His hand was warm, but dry and firm.  Debra was drawn to, him

also, and smiled when she picked up the timbre of his voice and the

essential warmth of his personality.

As they went into dinner, she asked David what he looked like, and

laughed with delight when he replied.

Like a koala bear, and they were talking easily together before the fish

course was served.  Friedman's wife, a slim girl with horned-rimmed

spectacles, neither beautiful nor plain, but with her husband's

forthright friendly manner, leaned across him to join the conversation

and David heard her say, Won't you come to lunch tomorrow?  If you can

stand a brood of squalling kids.  We don't usually, Debra replied, but

David could hear her wavering, and she turned to him.

May we -?  'and he agreed and then they were laughing like old friends,

but David was silent and withdrawn, knowing it was all subterfuge and

suddenly oppressed by the surging chorus of human voices and the clatter

of cutlery.  He found himself longing for the night silence of the

bushveld, and the solitude which was not solitude with Debra to share

it.

When the master of ceremonies rose to introduce the speaker, David found

it an intense relief to know the ordeal was drawing to a close and he

could soon hurry away with Debra to hide from the prying, knowing eyes.

The introductory speech was smooth and professional, the jokes raised a

chuckle, but it lacked substance, five minutes after you would not

remember what had been said.

Then the Brig rose and looked about him with a kind of Olympian scorn,

the warrior's contempt for the soft men, and though these rich and

powerful men seemed to quail beneath the stare, yet David sensed that

they enjoyed it.  They derived some strange vicarious pleasure from this

man.  He was a figurehead, he gave to them a deep confidence, a point on

which their spirits could rally.  He was one of them, and yet apart.  it

seemed that he was a storehouse of the race's pride and strength.

Even David was surprised by the power that flowed from the lean old

warrior, the compelling presence with which he filled the huge room and

dominated his audience.  He seemed immortal and invincible, and David's

own emotions stirred, his own pulse quickened and he found himself

carried along on the flood.

but for all of this there is a price to pay.  Part of this price is

constant vigil, constant readiness.  Each of us is ready at any moment

to answer the call to the defence of what is ours, and each of us must

be ready to make without question whatever sacrifice is demanded.  This

can be life itself, or something every bit as dear Suddenly David

realized that the Brig had singled him out, and that they were staring

at each other across the room.  The Brig was sending him a message of

strength, of courage, but it was misinterpreted by others in the

gathering.

They saw the silent exchange between the two men, and many of them knew

that David's terrible disfigurement and Debra's blindness were wounds of

war.  They misunderstood the Brig's reference to sacrifice, and one of

them began to applaud.

Immediately it was taken up, a smattering here and there amongst the

tables, but quickly the sound rose became thunder.

People were staring at David and Debra as they clapped, other heads

turned towards them.

Chairs began to scrape as they were pushed back and men and women came

to their feet, their faces smiling and their applause pounding, until it

filled the hall with sound and they were all standing.

Debra was not sure what it was all about, until she felt David's

desperate hand in hers and heard his voice.

Let's get out of here, quickly.  They are all staring.

They are staring at us She could feel his hand shaking and the strength

of his distress at being the subject of their ghoulish curiosity.

Come, let's get away.  And she rose at his urging with her heart crying

out in pain for him, and followed him while the thunder of applause

burst upon his defenceless head like the blows of an enemy and their

eyes wantonly raked his ravaged flesh.

Even when they reached the sanctuary of their own suite, he was still

shaking like a man in fever.

The bastard, he whispered, as he poured whisky in a glass and the neck

of the bottle clattered against the crystal rim.  The cruel bastard, why

did he do that to us?  David.  She came to him groping for his hand.  He

didn't mean it to hurt.  I know he meant it well, I think he was trying

to say he was proud of you.  David felt the urge to flee, to find relief

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