Firebird (38 page)

He held his head high, staring straight ahead, waiting for something to happen. And yet when it did, he was unprepared. He turned a corner and was confronted by a silent ring of men.

‘What do you want?' he demanded. ‘If it's money, you are going to be disappointed – I have very little of it.'

The fist that connected with his jaw sent him sprawling. His head cracked against the cobbled roadway and the stars spun in the heavens.

Rough hands delved into his pockets. Eynon tried to rise but a booted foot caught him full in the mouth. He felt his lip split. A tooth became dislodged and he spat it out, gasping for breath.

‘You can't hide behind your friends now, can you? Not such a big man when you're alone, eh?'

He recognized the voice with a shiver of apprehension. He lifted his head just as the boot caught him again in the ribs. He groaned and turned onto his stomach, trying to crawl away. The back of his collar was caught and he was hauled to his feet.

‘Let's strip him, boys!' A thick voice, heavy with drink, seemed to ring in Eynon's head. ‘Let's see if he's built like a man.'

To his horror, Eynon felt his clothes being ripped away, his shirt was torn from his thin chest and then he felt the blade of a knife against his belly as his trousers were cut from him.

‘Look at the sniffling pup then, will you, got a bit of rope between his legs that's no good to anyone. Shall we cut it off?'

Eynon whimpered as the cold of the knife touched his groin. He was going to be killed, done to death in some dirty back street.

‘No! We don't want the scandal of a dead man on our hands.' A voice, more commanding than the others, more cultured, rose above the noise. ‘Give him a good hiding and have done with it.'

Fists began to pound him. Eynon fell to the ground, drawing his knees up to his stomach. One kick caught him in the kidneys and he moaned with pain. He did not know how long the beating went on but at last it stopped. He heard footsteps moving away as he drifted into unconsciousness.

He became aware of the coldness around him. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed stuck together. He struggled to his knees, fighting the waves of pain and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

‘God help me,' he mumbled between swollen lips. He felt hands around his waist, a woman's hands. A shawl was thrown around his shoulders and a voice spoke close to his ear.

‘Don't be afeared, it's me, Celia-end-house. Going home from a friend's sickbed, I was, when I heard the noise, like animals baying, it put the fear of God into me, I can tell you.'

She led him, half-conscious, unable to see, along the roadway. He stumbled several times and her arms held him upright.

‘We won't be able to get far, Mr Eynon, but your father's house is only a few steps away.'

He no longer cared where he was. He did not even care if he lived or died. The humiliation he had suffered had been worse than the beating.

He was aware that he was indoors because he felt the warmth fold around him. He heard voices as if from far off and he was taken upstairs. He felt the coolness of sheets around him and then the heavier weight of blankets. He began to shiver and he heard Celia ask for hot water to be brought to him.

He felt the pain and the darkness and the futility of his life fall over him like a shroud and then a drink was being forced between his cut and swollen lips. It tasted bitter but it soothed him almost at once.

He heard his father's voice, harsh, without pity. ‘The boy had it coming, I don't suppose he even fought back. He's a coward and he's no son of mine.'

Eynon began to drift, but this time the pain was receding. He was on a cloud being taken up to heaven where there was no longer any feeling.

‘Sweet God in heaven, what have they done to the boy?' Lloyd had waited until he had seen Philip Morton-Edwards leave the house, he would ask no favours of his rival. Then several of the pottery workers had carried his chair upstairs so that he could see Eynon.

‘He's still not regained consciousness.' Celia-end-house had taken charge of the sickroom, hampered by the bossy Miss Fairwater, who insisted on attending Eynon. The girl had no more sense than she was born with, she fluttered around the room, her fan waving furiously before her patrician face.

‘Is he going to recover, do you think, Mr Savage?'

‘Don't ask him, girl,' Celia said impatiently. ‘Mr Savage don't know any more about the sick than you do. I don't know why you don't go back to Mr Eynon's house, I'm sure the old lady needs you there. In any case, you can't do no good here.'

Georgina sniffed but did not reply.

‘He looks terrible!' Lloyd said. Eynon's face was unrecognizable. His eyes were closed, his mouth swollen so much that his lips had turned over on themselves, revealing a gap where his tooth had been.

‘I've put witch-hazel on his body, poor boy. Skinny, he is, like a youngling. Needs caring for, he does, bless him.'

‘I would have cared for him, if you would have allowed me to,' the pale Miss Fairwater said, pouting her full lips.

Lloyd shook his head. ‘The boy's taken the beating of a lifetime. Saw men in better condition than this when they'd been hit by cannon fire. Looks like the lad might die.'

‘No. I won't let him die,' Celia said doggedly. ‘I will do my best for him, you can be sure.'

Lloyd leaned over the bed and tried to see in Eynon's battered face the boy who had laughed with him in the tavern a week ago. He felt anger surge through him.

‘I'll get the bastards if it's the last thing I ever do,' he said. ‘Call the servants to take me back downstairs. I'll get home to my own house, I can't do anything here. But I'll find whoever has done this and I'll kill him with my own hands.'

‘Better still if you used that musket you keeps locked up there,' Celia said evenly. ‘And I can tell you exactly who the bastards are, if you'll pardon my language.'

Lloyd looked at her for a long moment and then, slowly, he nodded. ‘You are a sensible woman, Celia. It's about time I cleaned up that old gun of mine.'

He took one last look at the figure in the bed and doubted that. Eynon would live long enough to know that he had been avenged. He sighed heavily. If only he had his legs, how he would enjoy hounding the men who had attacked Eynon. Well, if he could not go to them, he would just have to find a way to make them come to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It was her wedding day. Llinos woke to the sound of the birds and knew it was still early morning. Over the other side of the lodge Mint slept, one arm thrown across her face, her long hair spreading over her face. She was still a beautiful woman with a look of Joe about her and Llinos felt a constriction in her throat. Mint had been so kind, she had welcomed Llinos as her daughter with all the dignity and warmth of her nation.

As though aware of being observed, Mint opened her eyes and immediately she was wide awake. She rose and stoked the brazier with fresh logs, sending sparks flying across the lodge in all directions.

‘The fire burns brightly, it's a good sign.' She looked at Llinos. ‘We'll wash in the river before anyone else is awake.'

She smiled like a mischievous child and Llinos felt herself responding. Mint was a wonderful person, she combined the spontaneity of a child with the wisdom of the ages.

‘Mint, am I doing the right thing?' she asked and her voice sounded small.

Mint squatted on the floor before her, pulling a covering over her shoulders. ‘Let's think about it. You love Joe?'

Llinos nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘There is no doubt?'

‘No doubt at all.'

‘Then why are you worried?'

‘My father would not consent under any circumstances to this marriage.' Llinos looked down at her hands; they were trembling. ‘I am still a child in his eyes.'

‘But you are a woman enough to want Joe's love – in all ways?'

Llinos met Mint's eyes. ‘Yes.'

‘Come to the river, talk to the Great Spirit as you wash away your old life. Then you must decide.'

Llinos followed Mint to the edge of the water and as she slipped into the coolness she felt the sun on her face and the softness of the breeze and knew that, beautiful as it was, the country of Joe's birth was foreign to her.

She floated on her back in the diamond glow of the water and her thoughts rippled like the river through her mind. She would like to marry Joe here in his native land if only to please his mother but before the marriage was consummated, the ceremony must be repeated in a church back home. Only then would she feel she and Joe truly belonged to each other.

Llinos washed the dust from her hair and, with a sense of freedom, dived beneath the crystal water. Her decision had been made. When she emerged from the river, she was refreshed, her mind clear.

‘I must talk to Joe,' she said as Mint walked up the bank towards her, hair streaming with water, diamonds of moisture on her golden skin.

‘You will be my son's wife today before his people but it will be a marriage of spirit only.' It was not a question. Llinos put her arms around Mint. She was taller than Mint by several inches.

‘I will ask Joe to marry me in church. I want him to come home with me. Do you mind very much that I'll be taking him away from all this?' She looked up at the mountains, at the sparkling river and breathed the fragrant air that was so different from the stink and smoke of Swansea.

Swansea had its ugly face and yet there was an ache inside her for all she knew, all she had left behind. However dark and dirty her town, it was her home and she must return to it.

‘My son is a man. He straddles two worlds, the world of the Indian and the world of the white man. Speak your thoughts to him and he will go with you, back to the cold and the rain and the confines of a land that is small beyond my imagining.'

‘I'm sorry if I am a disappointment to you, Mint.' Llinos shivered a little. Her skin had dried in the breeze and quickly she began to dress.

‘I knew you would want to go home but I will see you married in the custom of my people first, that will be joy enough for now.'

Llinos smiled. ‘I pray that Joe will be willing to wait until after the church service before we . . .'

‘I understand. You will not feel properly married without the gold ring and the bells and the man of God saying words to you, it is only natural.'

Mint slipped her arm into the crook of Llinos's elbow. ‘I will ask the spirits to speak to your father. Perhaps, after all, he will favour your union with Joe.'

Llinos doubted it. ‘Perhaps.'

The village was awake, fires were lit within the stockade and the aroma of roasting meat permeated the air. Mint moved away. ‘I've things to do, much to arrange.'

As Llinos walked towards the lodge she saw that Binnie was sitting on a log, watching the women kneeling before the fires baking the pots. He glanced up and rose to his feet, waving his hand to Llinos.

‘Your hair is wet,' he said, smiling, and Llinos shook her head sending a spray of water over him.

‘So it is. You are observant this morning.'

‘And you are in a good mood. Llinos.' He was suddenly serious. ‘This marriage, you know it will not be legally binding, not back home. Do you think you are doing the right thing?'

‘Don't worry, Binnie. I mean to have a proper ceremony in a church later on.'

‘So you will go through with the marriage, here, will you?'

‘I see no harm in it.'

‘I hope you are being fair to Joe.'

‘Oh, Binnie, don't be such a misery! You know Joe as well as I do, I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Where is he?'

Binnie shrugged. ‘I haven't seen him this morning. Perhaps there are rituals, you know, paint, all that sort of stuff.' Binnie's voice betrayed his scorn for all things foreign. Llinos smiled.

‘Aye, I expect we'll have a witch doctor make a human sacrifice or at least kill a pig or something before we tie the knot.'

‘Don't make fun,' Binnie said. ‘You don't know what heathen ways these people may have.'

‘Well, I can't stop here talking to you all day, Binnie Dundee. It's my wedding day.'

In the warmth of the lodge, Llinos rubbed the river water from her hair. The drying curls felt soft and were scented with the perfume of the grasses from the river bank. Joe's country was beautiful but it was not home and never would be.

The day passed slowly. Of Joe there was no sign but great preparations were taking place outside in the village clearing. Skins had been spread on the ground and wide, glossy leaves held the feast of fish and meat.

Baskets of bread and fruit were set out along with jugs of amber liquid. Drums were beating softly, insistently, and Llinos began to feel apprehensive. Binnie was right, the ways of the Indian people were foreign to her. What was she doing here taking part in some heathen ceremony?

Mint slipped silently into the lodge. ‘I have come to help you dress for your wedding, daughter.' She had plaited her long hair and was wearing a band of bright beads of turquoise and black around her forehead.

‘Mint, I'm afraid. I haven't seen Joe, where is he, why doesn't he come and talk to me?'

‘It is not the custom, Firebird. You too have the custom where the man does not see the maid before the ceremony, is that not the way of it?'

‘Yes, but I need to talk to Joe, to explain that we must wait until . . .' Her voice trailed away as Mint put a cool finger over her lips.