The High Valley Page 12

  Pushing aside her plate she stared blindly out of the window, hardly listening to what Marianna was saying. Leaving the valley meant leaving Luis, too, and that would be no easy task. It didn't matter that his attitude towards her was indifferent. Her attitude towards him was an entirely different thing.

  After lunch, Marianna retired to her room to rest. Although she looked young, Morgana guessed she was nearing sixty and there were lines of strain on her face as she left the dining room. Morgana had instructions not to leave the villa, but she did leave the house, walking in the courtyard and looking out over the wall to the lake below. She was glad of the chance to think about what had happened that morning and she wondered exactly what Pieter had learned that had satisfied him that the smoke was there for legitimate reasons. She supposed the men had been righteously angry. She was an intruder after all, and they couldn't know that she had no idea what they were mining or what their plans might be. Even so, recalling the heavy wagons that had stood in the railyard, by the mine, she wondered how they possibly made their way to the village. And after reaching the village, what then? Whatever it was they were mining would need some kind of outlet, and she didn't believe it was taken out by air. It seemed obvious that there must be another way, although Pieter had said there was no pass …

  She sighed. It was nothing to do with her so why was she troubling her mind with such unnecessary thoughts when there were so many other things to think about?

  How much longer was she to remain here? And exactly where were the other passengers being accommodated? She frowned. It was awful to feel so helpless and to know that there was nothing she could do.

  Father Juan joined them for dinner again. From his conversation Morgana gathered that he spent most of his time attending to the older members of his congregation, visiting them when they were sick, or helping them if they found things difficult. Although Morgana had only had a superficial exploration of the valley she knew it was quite big and there was every likelihood that it supported other villages apart from the one where Luis had his headquarters. That being so, the population could be quite considerable and the fact that there were women and children pointed to there being schools and teachers. But when she tried to question Father Juan about these things she was successfully guided away from them, and she was frustratedly aware that to Luis's mother and his uncle she was merely an unwelcome interloper who would be got rid of at the earliest possible moment. She longed to mention her visit to the mine that morning, if only to see what reaction it aroused in them, but she could not betray Pieter in that way.

  So she contented herself with listening to what Father Juan and Marianna were saying, trying to build up a composite picture of life in the valley from their conversation.

  But after a while her thoughts began to drift to other things and she pondered again the possibilities of shifting large quantities of mined ore from the valley. Remembering the size of the wagons she felt sure that they could not amble along the roads, or tracks, she had travelled. The Land Rover had found it heavy going and it was quite a light vehicle. So that really left only one other probability. The mined ore, or whatever it was, must be moved in some other direction. But where? She sighed. Without a comprehensive map of the valley it was impossible to even guess.

  Later, after taking coffee in the lounge with the others, she excused herself and went up to her bedroom. Her lamp had been lighted, and the bed turned down, but before undressing she went and sat by the window, looking out rather wistfully. It was all so beautiful. Why couldn't she just accept it for what it was without plaguing her brain trying to find solutions to insoluble problems?

  She saw the lights she had seen the night before and a thought struck her. The lights she could see were in the same general direction as the smoke they had seen that morning. High up here, as she was, it was possible to see for a much greater distance and while in the daylight smoke would disappear in vapour, at night lights showed so much more clearly. She rested her elbows on the balcony rail, cupping her chin on her hands. Who could be out there that Pieter would not know about? Unless …

  Suddenly, her heart pounded excitedly. Was it possible that what she could see was the lights from the houses or haciendas being used by the other passengers? It made sense. After all, Pieter was not likely to have been told the plans of O Halcão, and from his manner after speaking to the men at the mine she had guessed what he had been told had in some way concerned her or he would have told her also.

  She heaved a sigh. Was that what it was? Out there in the darkness, hidden in daylight by the thick foliage. She compressed her lips. So near and yet so far. No wonder Marianna had been annoyed when they were late this morning. She had probably thought that Morgana had discovered the whereabouts of her companions and had decided to prove difficult again. No doubt she had been regaled with the story of her temporary defiance on the plane, and had imagined Luis's reactions to more disobedience.

  Morgana felt a reluctant smile lift the corners of her lips. Somehow it didn't seem so bad if they really were out there. Not that she could help them, or that they could help her, but at least they were there, and in just as difficult a situation as she was herself.

  CHAPTER VIII

  MORGANA slept badly. She tossed and turned restlessly in the bed, unable to relax, her body aching from its unaccustomed exertion that morning. Twice she got up and got a drink of water from the bathroom, but nothing seemed to do any good and the pale light of dawn was creeping over the mountains before she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  She eventually was awakened by someone knocking on her door, and she opened her eyes reluctantly, scanning her watch on the bedside table sleepily. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she sat up in horror, staring incredulously at the small clock face. Then, as the knocking began again, she called: “Who is it?”

  “Benjo, senhorita,” came the reply. “Senhora Marianna asked me to wake you. Senhor Luis is here.”

  Luis? Here?

  Morgana slid swiftly out of bed. “All right, Benjo, thank you,” she called. “I won't be many minutes.”

  “I have some coffee for you, senhorita.”

  “Oh!” Morgana glanced down at the sheer nylon gown she was wearing. “Just a minute!”

  She pulled on a full-skirted housecoat of deep blue brocaide and went to the door, opening it wide. Benjo smiled his usual warm smile and handed her the tray. Morgana thanked him, and after he had bowed he went away. She closed the door, carrying the tray of coffee to the bedside table and poured herself a cup of strong black coffee. Its aromatic fragrance refreshed her and she went into the bathroom quickly to wash before dressing.

  She wasted several precious minutes deciding what to wear. Finally, she chose a pair of cream levis and a cream silk shirt with long sleeves. Her hair shone from the vigorous brushing she had given it, and she felt almost calm as she descended the stairs.

  Luis and his mother were in the lounge. She could hear the low murmur of their voices as she crossed the hall, and her heart pounded sickeningly as she opened the door. Luis was standing on the hearth, a cigar between his teeth. In navy blue pants and a lighter blue laced suede jerkin he looked darkly attractive, a brooding look on his thin face as he stared unseeingly through the wide windows.

  But as though sensing her presence he turned to look directly at her, surveying her appearance with almost insolent appraisal. A faint colour invaded her cheeks as he looked at her, and as she glanced away she saw his mother's brows draw together with obvious disapproval. Maybe she didn't like her son looking at any woman as he was looking at Morgana, or maybe she sensed that there was more between them than he would have her believe.

  Breaking the silence, Marianna said: “You're very late this morning, senhorita!”

  Morgana linked her fingers nervously. “I overslept,” she said. “I had rather a restless night.”

  Luis threw the butt of his cigar into the fire. “Why was that?” he queried, rather harshly.

&nbs
p; Morgana compressed her lips. Did he know what had happened the previous day? Had he told his mother about their visit to the mine? She couldn't be certain, so she shrugged and said nothing.

  Marianna, who was seated on one of the low couches by the window, gestured that Morgana should come and sit beside her. Reluctantly, Morgana obeyed, and the older woman said:

  “I have been telling Luis about your unexpected outing yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes?” Morgana was guarded.

  “Yes,” said Luis, slowly. “You must have enjoyed riding to mount a horse again so soon.”

  Morgana bit her lip. “I suppose it was the best thing to do,” she replied, carefully. “After all, there was no point in allowing my limbs to stiffen, was there?”

  He inclined his head. “Nevertheless, I consider Pieter was perhaps a little premature in his invitation.”

  Morgana did not answer. She didn't like this conversation. She had the distinct impression that Luis knew exactly what had been going on but was playing a kind of cat-and-mouse game with her to find out what she would say. Surely he would not chastise Pieter any further. The boy had acted in good faith.

  When she did not speak, Marianna said: “How long are you staying, Luis?” in appealing tones.

  Luis shrugged. “I am in no hurry,” he reassured her calmly. “All our plans are underweigh. The undercarriage of the aircraft is almost repaired, our scouts are already reporting to us from Queranova. There is little time left for problems to occur. I am giving myself a few hours’ respite.”

  Morgana listened intently to their conversation and Luis noticed her interested expression. A rather sardonic smile touched his lips. “Are you eager to escape, Morgana?” he murmured. “Does my news fill you with delight that soon you will be back among your own people?”

  Morgana bent her head. “Will I?” she asked, quietly.

  “Of course.” His tone had hardened.

  “You never consider failure, do you?” she exclaimed, looking up.

  Luis's eyes narrowed. “No. There will be no failure. We will win, have no fear. The people of Monteraverde have been suppressed long enough. Queras rules with a rod of iron, but like all such power rulers he relies upon his army completely.” He strode across to the window and stared out across the gorge.

  “My father was once the presidente, senhorita. He ruled with strength, but he tempered it with compassion.”

  Morgana looked at him curiously. “But your father died?” she asked, softly.

  “He was assassinated!” snapped Luis, harshly. “Shot in the back of the head by a hired gunman working for Queras and his generals!”

  Morgana quelled the gasp of horror that his news aroused in her, and exclaimed: “But surely you – as the leader of these people – are placing yourself in exactly the same position! Do you risk assassination, too?”

  “No!” That was Marianna. She had got to her feet and stood swaying slightly, the force of her emotion visible in the taut lines of her face. “No – Luis is not the leader!” she said, tremulously. “He is the brain behind it all, that I cannot deny, but he will never be presidente!” Her voice broke.

  Luis turned and stared at Morgana's shocked face with angry eyes. “Do not interfere in things about which you know absolutely nothing!” he bit out grimly. “Already you have interfered too much!”

  Morgana pressed a hand to her throat. “I – I'm sorry,” she said awkwardly.

  Luis took a deep breath and went swiftly to his mother's side, putting his strong arm about her bowed shoulders and shaking her gently. “Mãe mia,” he murmured, softly, speaking to her reassuringly in their own language. Marianna clung to him tightly, her face upturned to his, eyes imploring. With a gentleness Morgana had never seen before he led his mother from the room and Morgana blinked back the emotionalism that stung the back of her eyes.

  When he returned he was alone, and she got uncomfortably to her feet, not knowing what to say, or what to do. He regarded her moodily, she thought, and she pushed back her hair behind her ears in a defensive gesture.

  “If – if you'll excuse me –” she began, but he shook his head rather impatiently.

  “Don't go,” he said, heavily. I want to talk to you.”

  Morgana swallowed hard. “If it's about Pieter and me –”

  He spread his hands. “If you mean your unexpected intrusion at the mine, you can forget it. Besides, I understand Pieter got rather more than he bargained for.”

  Morgana felt slightly relieved. “He was very upset. His position in your household is very important to him.”

  “I know. Don't worry, I do not have to say anything more to Pieter.”

  Morgana relaxed. “Is your mother all right?” She twisted her fingers together. “I didn't mean to upset anyone.”

  Luis shook his head again. “Come,” he said. “It is too nice a day to remain indoors. I have told Pieter to saddle our horses.”

  A ripple of apprehension slid along Morgana's spine. He was taking her riding. Was Pieter to accompany them?

  “I'll just get a cardigan,” she said.

  “I'll wait in the courtyard,” Luis replied, holding the door wide for her, and she went quickly through it and ran up the stairs eagerly.

  When she came out into the courtyard a few minutes later, a chunky orange cardigan across her shoulders, Pieter was standing talking to Luis but only two horses stood side by side, Morgana's mare and the black stallion belonging to Luis. He turned as he heard the mesh door bang and a strange look crossed his face before he said: “You are ready? Good. Let us go.”

  Pieter smiled up at her as she passed him and they exchanged a conspiratorial wink before he closed the heavy doors behind them. Out on the rocky mountainside the wind was warm and invigorating and Luis glanced back at her speculatively as they began the steep descent. “Are you nervous?” he asked, indicating the winding track, but Morgana shook her head.

  “Not any more. I think I must have a natural seat, if that is the word.” She smiled rather self-consciously. “At least, I'm not afraid of the horse, now.”

  “Pieter tells me you behaved admirably yesterday.”

  Morgana was unreasonably pleased. “I'm so glad,” she murmured. “I was frightened though when those men became so angry with Pieter.”

  Luis gave her a thoughtful stare. “Yes, that could have been dangerous,” he agreed. “After all, you know what is at stake. Nothing must stop us now.”

  They turned along the track beside the lake as the ground levelled out, allowing the horses to pick their way along the stony path. The water, rippled by the wind, stirred the rushes on the shoreline, and Morgana could see how quickly it deepened and how clear it was. She looked at Luis's back as he rode ahead of her wondering what thoughts were going through his mind as the peace and isolation of their surroundings closed in on them. They did not veer away from the lake shore as she and Pieter had done the day before but followed the contours of the lake until the distant thunder of the waterfall became much louder and she saw it ahead of them, its entry into the water broken by the rock formations that jutted out from the cliff face at that point. The horses’ hooves clattered across a rocky plateau and Luis slid from his mount, and looked up, shading his eyes against the brilliance of sun on water.

  Morgana climbed down, too, allowing Consuelo to crop the shrubs that grew even out of the cracks in the rock face, and felt the pleasurable spray of the waterfall cooling her head. She looked up, too, marvelling at the sweeping mass of water.

  Luis looked round at her. “Beautiful, isn't it?” he said, with obvious pride.

  Morgana nodded. “Beautiful,” she echoed. “The whole valley is beautiful. I don't know how you can bear to leave it.”

  Luis drew his brows together. “It is always here, waiting for my return,” he replied, squatting down at the water's edge, and dipping his hands into the coolness he soaked the back of his neck, careless of wetting his shirt.

  Morgana watched him, intensely aware of him
and of their isolation. It seemed incredible that only days ago she had been staying in Rio, certain she was never going to see him again, when now, in the space of less than a week he had become so important to her, so familiar, somehow. The thought of what was ahead of him filled her with trepidation and she thought that his mother's anxieties were no more than hers. How could she face leaving the valley whenever that time came knowing that he was faced with possible injury or even death at the hands of Queras's men.

  With a stifled exclamation, she turned away, dropping Consuelo's reins, and walking a few yards to where the rocks fell away in shallow steps to the waterline. The water looked so inviting, but when she touched it it was freezing and she shivered a little. Why had he brought her here? Why had he bothered to bring her with him wherever he was going? He couldn't desire her company when he had deliberately forced her to come here, to his mother's house, miles away from his hacienda.

  She became aware that he had crossed the rocky plateau and had come to stand behind her, looking down into the water over her shoulder. She quivered a little at his nearness and turned, meaning to walk back to her horse, but he was closer than she had thought and directly in front of her. She looked up at him compulsively, and their eyes met and held.

  “Morgana,” he said huskily, “I am going to enter the priesthood. When all this is over – when the new presidente of Monteraverde has been proclaimed – I shall enter the seminary at Voltio.”