To Chase the Storm: The Frontier Series 4 (48 page)

Saul glanced at the old man. There was something gentle and wise about the former jewel trader that endeared him to all those he met. ‘Rather have Ivan with me right now,’ Saul answered. ‘But he is probably introducing the archangels to the joys of vodka.’

‘That you believe that much, my young friend, is a sign that you have not completely deserted the ways of your father.’

Saul frowned. ‘Don’t misinterpret my bad jokes as faith, Jakob,’ he said. ‘But I do believe in the people you have gathered here. Don’t ask me why – I just do.’

Jakob nodded. No matter what Saul believed in, it was more important right now to believe in the young former soldier’s skills. Such a responsibility was God given.

Elsa tried to fight off the sleep that came to her, despite the fear she felt for the unknown. On his last round of inspection Saul had told her it was midway between midnight and dawn. But involuntarily her eyes closed and for a time she was in a world of serene happiness, dreaming of the snowfields of her village. Saul was beside her and smiling. He held out his hand...

She came awake instantly as the world around her exploded with screams and rifle shots. Blinking desperately to clear her eyes, she could see the myriad burning torches waving in the dark. It seemed that they were all in front of her and suddenly a figure loomed out of the dark only feet away.

Elsa surprised herself by swinging her rifle around and firing. The shadowy figure disappeared momentarily only to rise again from the earth. In shock, Elsa had forgotten to work the bolt to eject the spent cartridge and chamber another round and there was no time to do so before the figure was before her.

‘Jesus! You almost shot me,’ Saul exclaimed. ‘The enemy are out there to your front,’ he said as he took up a position beside the young woman.

Saul quickly surveyed the scene. There must be hundreds of them, he thought with a sinking feeling. But the attackers had lit firebrands and unwittingly
disclosed their positions as they came in a human wave of blood-curdling, ululating cries, firing wildly. The attackers were shooting high. Saul could hear the thwack of their bullets hitting the stone walls of the village behind him. Already his militia were firing steadily into the ranks crossing the ploughed paddock. For a second he hoped that they just might cripple the attack. It all depended on how well he had trained his small army in using their rifles at night. Each shot of their limited supply of ammunition had to count. But the attackers were also returning fire as they kept coming in what appeared to be an unstoppable wave.

The firebrands began to fall in showers of sparks as the defenders’ rifle fire bit into the closely packed formation of attackers. Saul recklessly stood up to observe the flow of battle. It seemed as if the Arabs had concentrated their assault in one formation in order to overwhelm the villagers. If so, then he could draw in the reserve of rifles he had positioned at the other ends of the village. But if he were wrong, and the attackers had placed a force to the other side of the village, then gathering his reserve to the main front would leave them extremely vulnerable. It was a gamble, but Saul also knew that if he did not stem the flow of Palestinians to his front, they were lost anyway.

Saul made his decision and moved quickly to bring up his reserve who scrambled to take up positions next to their comrades in the now less thinly spread front line. The attackers were only a hundred yards or so out when they were met with heavier
gunfire than they had experienced from the outset. Saul commanded the deployment from beside Elsa’s position where she kept up a steady and disciplined rate of fire, calmly reloading the magazine as it emptied and then continuing to shoot into the flickering wave of torches. Saul could hear the war cry of the Palestinians, goading them to a victory. But the attack was wavering as many turned to flee the murderous fire. It was obvious that they had underestimated the new settlers’ capacity to defend themselves. But those who did get close enough hurled their firebrands towards the front line of the defending militia. They landed in a shower of sparks, giving some weak light for the attackers to see their enemy.

A sudden drop-off in rifle fire and new screams and curses to Saul’s left flank alerted him that some of his young militia were now engaged in a desperate and vicious hand-to-hand battle. Without hesitating he ran to bolster their attempt to stem any collapse of the defence.

As Saul stumbled into position, a huge Arab in a distinctive white robe swung an ancient scimitar sword. The man’s bearded face flashed. A mask of hate and blood lust, he was mere feet from Saul who desperately brought up his rifle to parry the blade. Sword and rifle met in a bone shaking crash, dislodging the rifle from Saul’s grip. It clattered to the earth and the swordsman skilfully changed foot, this time readying to deliver a killing blow from the side.

In the blink of an eye Saul realised that there was nothing he could do to prevent the sword slicing
through him. The triumphant expression on the Arab’s face confirmed that he was a dead man.

As if in slow motion, Saul saw the barrel of a rifle thrust into the Arab’s side, and the triumph on the man’s face suddenly turned to anguished pain. Saul did not even hear the sharp discharge of the rifle as its projectile ripped through the man’s heart and lungs, flinging him sideways. When Saul swung to glimpse his saviour he saw the pinched face of Elsa, her eyes as big as saucers in the semi-dark. He was almost ready to curse her for leaving her position but the terror written across her pretty face was enough to quell his anger.

Without a word he scooped up his weapon and was not disappointed when an attacker stumbled forward to be cut down with a bullet from Saul’s rifle only a pace away. Around him, Saul could hear man-to-man fighting. Grunting, cursing and screaming, men kicked, punched, bit and stabbed each other to death to the sound of metal crashing down on metal. The occasional shot indicated to Saul that one or two of his militia had been able to disengage themselves for enough time to reload and fire. Screaming defiance, Saul waded into the melee swinging his rifle like a club.

It seemed an eternity until there were no shots or curses left.

‘They have gone,’ an awed voice said in the dark as the sound of someone sobbing followed.

Panting, Saul staggered back to a group of men and women as they emerged from their positions, seeking each other to celebrate their survival.

‘Get back to your positions,’ Saul rasped. ‘They might be reforming for another attack.’

Reluctantly, the young defenders returned to their allocated defences while Saul tried to establish how many had been killed and wounded. He moved from position to position as they waited in exhaustion. When he had ensured each man and woman had ammunition and water to drink, he again sought Elsa out.

‘Just thought I should thank you for what you did earlier,’ he said quietly. ‘If you hadn’t been nearby I was definitely a dead man.’

Elsa blushed at his words, grateful for the darkness. ‘I was doing what you taught me to do,’ she replied modestly.

‘And didn’t I tell you to remain at your post – regardless of anything,’ Saul growled gently. ‘You disobeyed my orders.’

Elsa hung her head. Did he not know that his life was precious to more than just himself? If he had been killed the others might have broken and run. He was the rock on which the safety of the
moshava
now depended. ‘You are a stupid man, Mr Rosenblum,’ she snapped. ‘It was my duty to make sure that you were not killed.’

Saul was taken aback by her anger. The girl had spirit, he thought, and he now felt just a little remorse for being so hard on her in the past. If the truth be known, he had been frightened that she might suffer the same fate as Karen and Anna – and that he could not endure again.

Without replying, he walked away. Elsa felt tears
welling in her eyes. The events of the night were closing in and flashes of what had happened, only a short time earlier, began to erode her nerves. She trembled uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. Dropping her rifle Elsa hugged herself, tears finally flowing. Soon the morning would come and the result of the night before would be evident.

When the sun rose over the battlefield Saul was unsurprised to see that no bodies of the slain enemy were left in the ploughed paddock. The Arabs had taken their dead and wounded under cover of darkness.

But fourteen bodies remained at the edge of the village where the close quarter fighting had occurred. Five of the bodies were of the defenders, four men and one woman, who lay scattered in death with the many, terrible wounds a testimony to how hard they had fought.

Saul supervised the removal of all bodies with the help of grieving settlers who had come out of the sanctuary of the storage shed whilst the remaining militia stood half their number to guard against a daylight attack. Saul sent out a patrol of three to sweep the area beyond the village for any sign of the Palestinian attackers. Then he sent his exhausted defenders into the village to sleep. He reissued their arms to others to put up a pretence of defence should they still be under observation from the attackers. But for himself there was no luxury of rest. The village was still under threat and there was much
to do to ensure the safety of these people whose lives Jakob had entrusted to his skills and experience of war.

Saul’s mind and body were numb with weariness and he hardly registered Jakob’s presence when he came to him sometime before noon.

‘Go and sleep,’ Jakob had gently commanded. ‘We will wake you if anything happens.’

Saul nodded gratefully and stumbled away to a sheltered, shady spot behind a stone building. He slumped to the earth and curled up with thoughts still racing through his mind. Had he checked to see if his patrols were still out beyond the village sweeping the area as an early warning to a future attack? Had he repositioned and strengthened his defensive positions? Had he . . . Saul fell into a deep sleep.

Later that day Elsa found Saul behind the stone building. She stood and watched him, wondering how he could appear so peaceful. Her hands still trembled, although not as badly as hours before. Healing sleep had come to her eventually and it was now late afternoon, that gentle time of the day when the searing heat gave way to a wonderful coolness before the chill of night took hold.

With a start, Saul awoke. It was dark and he experienced a pang of guilt for sleeping so long when he should have been out supervising the defence. But even more alarming was the realisation that a warm body was curled into his.

‘Elsa,’ he said in an awed whisper, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he recognised the head that lay against his chest.

She stirred at the sound of her name but remained asleep. Saul eased them into a sitting position, propped against the now icy cold wall. The scent of her hair was strong and Saul felt a confusion of emotions. But for the sleeping young woman there was no confusion. Elsa expected to be with this man until they grew old – or died – together.

FIFTY

S
ean O’Donohue crouched behind a hedgerow within sight of the old Fitzgerald manor. The cold drizzle could have made the waiting miserable but he was hardly aware of the discomfort, so focused was he on the task ahead.

An hour passed and the light was waning as the feeble sun set behind the low scudding clouds. Sean stretched and stamped his feet, burying himself in his heavy coat to ward off the chill. The waiting had been longer than he anticipated and now the cold and wet was beginning to permeate his thinking, dulling his responses.

Then the carriage came into view, rumbling down the rough road to the house and onto the gravel driveway. Sean found himself holding his breath as the man he had been waiting for stepped down. ‘Norris,’ he hissed.

Their information had been right and the great irony was that the coachman who had delivered Norris to the manor was part of the conspiracy. Sean slipped the revolver from his pocket, anxious to move. But the carriage was still in the driveway and he would have to remain where he was until the driver took it to the stables where he would wait to take Sean back to the village. At least he would not have to walk back in the dark, Sean consoled himself.

Once the carriage had disappeared behind the house, Sean rose to make his way to the front door. But he froze when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye. From down the lane in the last light of the day a figure was trudging towards the house. From the cover of the hedge Sean peered intently and recognised Major Duffy. So he would kill both of them, Sean thought with bitter satisfaction. The devil had ordained this day to him.

Patrick hesitated at the door. This was the moment of truth that he feared. Would Catherine return with him to England and then home to Sydney? He took a breath to steady the trembling in his hands and knocked.

When the door was opened Patrick felt a long contained rage well up. Brett Norris stood blocking the way.

At first Norris did not seem to recognise the man who stood in the drizzling rain. Then a sneer curled on his lips. ‘Duffy!’

Patrick had to control a sudden urge to smash the face of the man who had taken Catherine from him. ‘Norris, what are you doing here?’

‘I thought you would know. I own the house, old chap,’ Norris replied calmly as he let his first reaction of shock subside. He knew better than to allow a rival to unsettle him. ‘I should ask you the same question.’

‘You know why I am here,’ Patrick growled. ‘So let me pass to see my wife.’

‘I would, except that Catherine does not appear to be in residence.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Patrick snarled and stepped forward, brushing Norris aside. ‘Where is she?’

Norris closed the door behind him. ‘You can search as much as you like. In fact, my housekeeper does not seem to be around either. Rather odd.’

‘Catherine,’ Patrick called. But his voice echoed in the empty rooms. ‘Catherine,’ he called again as he made his way through the house.

Norris stood back, bemused. But he too was mystified as to where Catherine might be.