No Time For Love (Bantam Series No. 40) (14 page)

“He who has won some new splendour

Rides on the air,

Borne upward on the wings of his human vigour

Although this came from an ode to Apollo, asking his special blessing for those who had won victory in the Pythian games, it was particularly applicable to Wynstan.

No-one could have looked more strong and vigorous than he did at this moment, his soaked shirt revealing the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his arms and the athletic lines of his body.

His wet trousers outlined his narrow hips and Larina knew without being told that he was tremendously strong and that in a fight his adversary would come off worst.

“If you are referring to me,” Wynstan said with a smile, “you have omitted two rather important lines of the poem.”

“What are they?” Larina asked.

“For a brief space the exultant of joy,

Until at last he falls to the earth,

Shattered by the beckoning doom!"

He laughed.

“In other words: ‘Pride comes before a fall,’ and that is something it is always wise to remember.”

“Why should you fall?” Larina asked. “I am sure you never will.”

“I hope you are right,” he said. “But it is a mistake for one to become too conceited or to think oneself invincible.”

“I have never been able to think that,” Larina said, “but you are different. You would always get your own way, you would always be able to do the impossible and turn defeat into victory.”

“Now again you are like the Sirens who sang to Ulysses. Perhaps the most dangerous thing a woman can do to a man,” Wynstan said with a note of amusement in his voice, “is to make him believe that he is invincible and indefatigable.”

He glanced for a moment at Larina’s wide eyes and added:

“It is also the best thing she can do; for most men need to have someone to believe in them because they are afraid to believe in themselves.”

“I believe in you,” Larina said impulsively.

“
In what way?” he asked.

“I think you will always get what you want in life. I think too that what you want is something which will help other people and will be of real importance.”

She was not really certain of what she was saying, but the words came to her.
There was a silence after she had spoken. Then Wynstan said:

“Thank you, Larina, you have made up my mind for me on a rather important subject.
”

They said no more because Wynstan seemed to be concentrating on the boat, and once again there was a squall of rain which forced Larina to keep her head down.

It was late afternoon before they finally reached the private jetty of the Villa as they had been crawling along at less than three knots.

The mechanic was waiting for them and Wynstan told him what had happened. While he was exclaiming in dismay at what had occurred, Larina began to climb up the steps towards the Villa.

It was difficult to walk in her soaked skirts and Wynstan soon caught up with her.

“You need a hot bath,” he said firmly, “but first a drink!”

He drew her, although she protested, into a room where there was a tray of drinks set out on a side-table.

“I am ruining the carpet!” she protested.

“Better that than having pneumonia!” he answered. “Drink this—every drop of it!”

It was cognac and Larina felt it sear its way like fire down her throat, but because Wynstan had ordered her to drink it she did so.

Then she went upstairs to where a maid was already drawing her bath, and having taken off her wet clothes she lay soaking in it for a long time.

Then there was her hair to dry, and it was hours later before she came downstairs in evening dress to find Wynstan in the room that she had learnt was usually used in the winter.

It had an open fireplace, and now there was a log-fire burning brightly and a table set in front of it.

Wynstan rose to his feet as she entered the room.

“If you are not hungry—I am!”

Larina smiled at him a little shyly.

Now that she was back in the Villa it was difficult not to think of how he had kissed her.

She thought about it while she was lying in her bath and told herself that she must not attach too much importance to it.

It was just because he was so pleased with himself at having repaired the engine that he had to express his joy with someone, and she had been standing there beside him.

It had been a revelation to her, but she was sure that to him it had been nothing more than if he had hugged her as a man might hug a child or swing her round in his arms.

The servants appeared with delicious dishes and Larina found that she was in fact very hungry.

“Do you realise it is after seven o’clock?” Wynstan asked. “It is a long time since breakfast, and I suppose, as this must count as dinner, our luncheon is lost forever!”

“I shall not miss it,” Larina smiled. “I have never eaten as much as I have done since I came here.”

“I had been looking forward to giving you luncheon at Ischia,” he said, “but we will go there another day. Tomorrow we will be more cautious and only go the three miles to Capri. Then if we break down again, there will be plenty of people about to rescue us.”

“I am not afraid,” Larina said.

“Do you want me to tell you how well you behaved?” he asked. “Any other woman would have whined and complained, and many would have been really frightened.”

“I was only frightened at first because I was afraid I might be sea-sick,” Larina confessed, “and that would have been undignified.”

“And very unromantic!” he said.

She thought for a moment that his eyes rested on her lips and she blushed.

He insisted on her drinking wine at dinner and also having a liqueur afterwards.

Then he made her put her legs up on the big velvet sofa which stood in front of the fire and covered her with a fur rug.

“I am not cold now,” Larina said.

“I am still afraid you might catch a chill,” he replied. “The Mediterranean can be very treacherous at times and very misleading. It changes its moods as quickly as any woman!”

“Are we all so temperamental?” Larina enquired.

“Most woman are,” he answered, “but that is what makes them so attractive. If they were always the same I have a feeling it would become very boring.”

Larina smiled and snuggled back amongst the silk cushions.

“I am too tired and too contented to throw a temperament just to amuse you,” she said, “but remind me tomorrow to be unpredictable about something or other.”

She was speaking lightly, but as she said the word ‘tomorrow’ once again the question was there.

Would she be with him tomorrow to be unpredictable, or anything else?

“What is worrying you?” Wynstan asked.

“How do you know I am worried?” Larina replied evasively.

“Your eyes are very expressive. I have never known a woman whose expression changes so quickly, or whose eyes are so revealing.”

He bent forward in his chair.

“Tell me what it is that frightens you, Larina,” he begged. “I know there is something and I cannot bear to see the fear in your eyes.”

For a moment she hesitated and then she said:

“I will tell you tomorrow night.”

“Is that a promise?” Wynstan asked.

“I
...
promise!”

She thought as she spoke that by tomorrow night he would understand and there would be no need for her to tell him what was wrong—he would know!

It was very comfortable on the sofa, the fire was warm and the liqueur Wynstan had made her drink made her feel as if she were floating on a cloud.

She must have fallen asleep because she was wakened by Wynstan saying:

“You are tired. You were up very early this morning, and nothing could be more exhausting than what we went through today. It is time you went to bed.”

“No ... I want to stay
...
here,” Larina protested drowsily.

“I am going to have to make you do as you are told,” he answered. “If you feel too tired to walk, I will carry you.”

He pulled back the rug as he spoke and picked Larina up in his arms before she could protest.

“Why should you not be ‘borne upward on the wings of my human vigour’?” he asked with a smile.

She gave a little chuckle and put her head against his shoulder.

It was a happiness she had never known to be held close in his arms, and she knew that she was so light that it was no effort for him to carry her across the Hall and up the broad staircase which led to her bed-room.

He pushed open the door with his foot. Then as he entered the room he saw that her eyes were closed and that she had fallen as
l
eep against his shoulder.

Very gently he put her down on the bed.

She opened her eyes as he did so and gave a little murmur as if she minded leaving the security of his arms.

“Shall I call one of the maids?” he asked.

“No,” she answered with an effort, “I
...
will manage.”

“I have a feeling that as soon as my back is turned you will fall asleep again. So, because I want you to have a good night, Larina, I will turn my back while you undress; then when you are in bed, I will tuck you up.”

She looked at him drowsily as he pulled her to her feet and undid the back of her gown with expert fingers.

“Hurry,” he said with laughter in his voice, “otherwise I shall find you asleep on the floor!”

He walked away from her as he spoke and pulled aside one of the curtains to look out to sea.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hid the stars and there was no moon.

The lights of Naples were twinkling in the distance and Wynstan stood looking at them until a soft voice behind him said:

“I am in
...
bed now.”

He turned and walked back to the bed which was draped in frilled muslin.

Larina’s hair was golden against the white of the pillows.

He saw that she was wearing a muslin nightgown with long sleeves trimmed with lace which fell over her hands, and with a lace-trimmed collar which fastened at the neck.

He pulled the sheet up to her chin, then he bent his head and kissed her very gently on the lips.

“Good-night, Larina,” he said softly.

“Good-night
...
Apollo
...”
she murmured and her eyes closed before she had said the last word.

Wynstan stood looking at her for a long moment; then he turned out the light and went from the
room.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

L
arina awoke to find the maid pulling back the curtains.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“It is half past nine,
Signorina
,”
the maid replied, “and I thought you would like your breakfast.”

“Breakfast!” Larina exclaimed and sat up in bed.

She was dismayed to find that she had slept so long.

She had meant to get up early and see for the last time the dawn breaking, but now by sleeping she had lost some of the precious hours of her last day on earth.

She was angry with herself, and yet at the same time she felt an uncontrollable surge of excitement at the thought of seeing Wynstan again.

Now she remembered that he had carried her up to bed, and although she had been half-asleep she was quite certain that he kissed her before he left the room.

Only to think of the kiss he had given her when they were on the boat was to feel an exquisite ecstasy shoot through her body with a sensation she had never known or even imagined existed.

She had been wet and cold, and yet at that moment she felt as if she glowed like a light with the wonder of his lips.

It had no longer been a grey, wet day, the world seemed brilliant as if Apollo himself had touched it with his fingers.

“That is how I would like to die,” Larina told herself and remembered how Homer had written:

‘
Make the sky clear, and grant us to see with our eyes.

In the light be it, although thou slayest me.
’

“The light! That is what I must find even though I am slain,” Larina told herself.

The maid brought her breakfast on a tray on which there rested a white rose.

It smelt delicious and as she held it to her nose Larina told herself that what was left of her life must be happy.

She must not let Wynstan be aware of her apprehension and her fear.

She would try to laugh with him, be gay; then when the moment came he would be there and perhaps she would not mind dying because she would not be alone.

She ate quickly, then walked down the marble steps into the warm bath the maid had prepared for her.

She wondered if any previous occupants of the Villa had ever faced, as she was doing, the knowledge that their life was over and their existence was coming to a full-stop.

“I must not think about it,” Larina told herself, “or Wynstan will guess that something is worrying me.”

She felt a sudden warmth because he was concerned for her, because last night he wanted her to tell him her secret. She had promised to do so, knowing that she would not have to say it in words, that what happened would speak for itself.

‘Will he mind?’ she wondered. ‘Will he care?’

Then she told herself she was being ridiculous.

Why should he care for her when he had only known her for such a short time?

He had been charming and kind, but it was because he was habitually like that, and although he had kissed her he had also kissed the attractive Italian Contessa.

“Which gown will you wear,
Signorina
?”
the maid enquired.

There was one gown which she had not yet worn, one she had bought at Poiret’s.

It was white, trimmed with fine lace and slotted through with turquoise-blue ribbons, and a sash of the same colour encircled her waist.

She thought it was the prettiest day-gown she had ever seen in her life and almost instinctively, she thought now, she had kept it for her last day.

She brushed her hair until it shone, then swept it back from her forehead and coiled it low in the back of her neck.

“The
Signorina
is very beautiful!
Bellissima
!”

“Thank you!” Larina replied, feeling the words spoken with obvious sincerity were just what she needed.

She went downstairs and despite her eagerness to reach Wynstan, she was feeling a little shy.

She found him in the Drawing-Room, seated at the desk writing a letter.

He rose when she appeared and she was sure that he looked at her admiringly.

“I am ashamed of having slept so late,” she said.

“You had every reason to be tired.”

“What are we
...
going to ... do today?”

The question was breathless simply because it was so important, and she was afraid he might have changed his plans.

“I promised I would take you to Capri,” Wynstan answered, “unless you are afraid to trust yourself again in my badly behaved motor-boat? The mechanic informs me that we can go for miles, and even years, without a recurrence of what happened yesterday!”

“I am not afraid,” Larina answered, “and I have wished so much to see Capri.”

“Then your wish shall be granted!” Wynstan said. “If you are ready we may as well start right away.”

Larina looked up at him excitedly.

She had brought her hat downstairs, and when they reached the Hall Wynstan picked up a blue sun-shade which was lying on a table.

“This belonged to my sister-in-law,” he said, “and I think it would be wise to take it with us. It can be very hot on Capri, even though we can try to find somewhere shady under the olive trees.”

Larina looked at him enquiringly and he explained:

“I thought today we would have a picnic. I want to go to the south of the island where, as far as I know, there are no restaurants. So the Chef has filled the basket with what he thinks we should eat and drink on such a beautiful island!”

“Then of course it will be ambrosia and nectar!” Larina smiled.

“Naturally!” Wynstan replied. “What else would the gods consider to be palatable fare?”

They descended the cliff followed by one of the servants carrying the wicker baskets.

The mechanic was waiting for them and assured Wynstan that everything was in order and another break-down was impossible.

“I hope you are right, and thank you!” Wynstan said in fluent Italian.

The servant stowed the picnic away in the cabin.

Wynstan started up the engine and they set off moving at a very different speed from that at which they had limped home the day before.

Today the sea was calm without even a ripple of a wave, and already the sun was blindingly golden and very hot.

Capri was only three miles from the promontory of Sorrento.

As they left it behind Larina looked back and thought how right Ulysses had been to build a Temple to
Athena
on the outermost point.

“I know what you are thinking,” Wynstan said with a smile, “but there were also many Temples on Capri when the Greeks settled there.”

“Of course,” Larina murmured.

“When Caesar Augustus saw Capri,” Wynstan went on, “he was so struck by its beauty that he acquired it from the City of Naples in exchange for Ischia.”

He saw that she was listening attentively and he said:

“Tiberius, who came after him, built twelve Villas dedicated to the twelve divinities of Olympus.”

“Do any of them still exist?” Larina asked.

“One, at any rate, is in the process of being excavated,” Wynstan replied, “but it is going to be too hot for us to do very much sight-seeing. I am afraid you will have to be content with the beauty of the island.”

There was no doubt that it was beautiful.

As they drew nearer Larina saw that its high mountains, the highest being Mt. Salerno, seemed almost blue, a mystical, entrancing blue that she felt must somehow belong to the gods.

They passed the Marina Grande, the main harbour, and proceeded round the high sharp cliffs.

Wynstan pointed out to her various grottos that he said she must explore another day.

Then with the sea vividly blue, the dolomitic cliffs rising perpendicularly out of it, cut and tunnelled by time into fantastic shapes, they came to the south of the island.

Here there was a small harbour beside a natural formation of rock jutting into the sea.

“This is the Marina Piccola where we leave the boat and climb,” Wynstan explained. “I am afraid there is no road and no carriage, so I hope you are feeling energetic?”

“I am!” Larina answered.

“High above this Marina are the gardens of Augustus,” Wynstan told her. “I warn you—it is a steep climb!”

“I am not afraid.”

They tied up the boat, then Wynstan carried the wicker baskets and they set out to climb from the little beach up the side of the cliffs.

There was a path, narrow and twisting, and it was not too difficult but Larina was glad of the sunshade as the sun beat down on their heads.

Finally they found at the top of the path trees, grass and a profusion of wildflowers of every colour.

“I think we have gone high enough,” Wynstan said.

As he spoke Larina gave a little cry.

She could see some ruins, two arches worn by time and the weather, which had obviously at one time been part of a building.

“Is that the Villa of Augustus?” she asked.

“It is,” Wynstan replied, “and you can imagine him coming here to rest, and planning where else the Romans could extend their Empire, and perhaps too deciding how he could extort more money and more slaves from the races he had conquered!”

“Do not spoil it for me,” Larina begged. “I want to think of people being happy on this beautiful island.”

It was, she thought, more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. The vivid blue of the Mediterranean which reflected the blue of the sky seemed to intensify the green of the grass and the flowers which filled it.

Wynstan found a comfortable place near a tree where he set down the wicker baskets.

Then he half-laid down on the ground supporting himself on his elbow.

“Come and join me,” he said to Larina as she stood looking out to sea. “We can pretend we are Romans, or Greeks, if you prefer and the world, or what has been discovered of it, will be well lost in exchange for this little Paradise on its own.”

‘That is exactly what it is,’ Larina thought.

She did as Wynstan suggested and sat down beside him, shutting her sun-shade and taking off her hat.

Wynstan watched her.

“You are Greek!” he declared and after a moment: “Pure Greek with your straight little nose and your hair which seems to hold the sunshine.”

“There is no need for me to return the compliment!”

“Last night you called me Apollo!”

She felt the colour come into her face and dropped her eyes.

“I was asleep,” she answered.

“I am not complaining!” he said with a smile, “and if we were Greeks, even quite ordinary Greek people, we should, if we were born at the right time, think of ourselves as creatures shining in a divine light.”

“Did they really think that?” Larina asked.

“Their naval victory over the Persians off the Island of Salamis,” Wynstan answered, “was so close to being a miracle that the Greeks really believed that the gods had been present, fighting on their side.”

“When was that?” Larina enquired.

“On a warm sunny day rather like this,” Wynstan replied, “in September, 280
b.c.”

“And after that, they were free, liberated from the threat of Persian domination?” Larina enquired.

“Completely!” Wynstan replied. “And for fifty years they lived, thought, built Temples, sculpted and painted as if they were the natural children of the gods.”

“Why?” Larina asked.

“I believe that their prodigious strength,” Wynstan replied slowly, “came from the fact that in some way which we have forgotten or lost they linked up with a divine force which men call ‘God’ or ‘Life’.”

“Do you think it is always there if we need it?” Larina asked.

“I am sure of that,” Wynstan replied, “and that is why in the space of two generations the Greeks set out to conquer the furthermost regions of the human spirit, and in doing so established an Empire over the mind which has altered the whole course of human thinking right up to the present day.”

“Is that really true?” Larina asked.

“Because a divine visitation occurred in Greece,” Wynstan answered, “men’s minds moved faster, their eyes saw further and their bodies were equipped with unsuspected powers.”

“And today?” Larina asked.

“We can still find what the Greeks found—if we try hard enough.”

Larina drew in her breath.

“What you are really saying is that we ourselves can tap this power or ‘Divine light’, and we can not only use it in this world, so that we can become permeated with it but we are part of it when we die?”

It seemed to her as she spoke as if Wynstan had cleared away from her mind everything that had been worrying her, everything she had not understood.

There was silence, then he said:

“Blake wrote: ‘Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the Sons of God shouting for joy’!”

He smiled at Larina as he went on:

“The Greeks regarded themselves as the sons of God and the echo of their joyful shouting can be heard down the ages. We can do the same!”

“That is what I want to do,” Larina said. “I think it is what I have always wanted but now you have made it clear.”

“It is Capri which makes it clearer than anywhere else outside Greece itself,” Wynstan said.

He lay down on his back and looked at the branches of the trees above him.

“Here it is easy to believe,” he said, “away from the sounds of traffic and machinery, away from the overpowering height and size of sky-scrapers! Men’s buildings belittle themselves.”

“I know what you mean,” Larina said.

There was no need to put into words that the translucent light, the blue, limpid glow of the island, was so exquisite and so serene she felt as if she could leap either into the sky or into the sea and be no longer herself but a part of them.

Here in Capri the mind could soar free, and there were no longer any problems or fear, but only beauty.

They were silent, and yet it was a close sort of silence which made Larina feel almost as if Wynstan touched her. Then after a long time he said:

“I do not know about you, but I am hungry! I had breakfast very early.”

“That is what I meant to do,” Larina said, “and I was angry with myself for over-sleeping.”

“We will make it up,” Wynstan said lightly. “Why not open the baskets and see if there is anything to eat?”

Larina did as she was told, then laughed.

“There is enough food here for a whole army!” she exclaimed.

“There is nothing Italians enjoy more than arranging a picnic,” Wynstan replied.
He was busy as he spoke opening a bottle of golden wine. “It should really be cooler,” he said. “The one thing that is sometimes lacking on Capri is water. Yet strangely enough, or perhaps through divine influence, the vineyards, orange-groves and gardens are highly productive. I have always been told there are more variations of flowers and shrubs here than anywhere else in Italy.”

He poured some of the wine into two glasses and held one out for Larina.

“Drink it slowly,” he said, “and imagine it is nectar. Even if the gods have a purer taste, I think I shall find it palatable.”

Larina did as she was told.