Lord Of Zaracus

‘Well, I think it all sounds positively feudal, like Bill said,’ retorted Carolyn, frowning. ‘But all right, Dad. We’ll play it your way. Just don’t expect too much all at once, will you?’

The professor laughed. ‘No, I won’t do that,’ he said. ‘Now come along, and I’ll show you where the shower is. It’s rather primitive, too, but no doubt it will serve the purpose.’

The shower was accommodated in a wooden shed, which Carolyn supposed was an improvement on the canvas tents. It comprised quite simply an overhead tank which was filled with rainwater, and sprayed an icy scattering of water when the catch was released. The professor laughed at Carolyn’s expression, and then left her to her ablutions.

Carolyn stripped off her clothes, thrusting them carelessly into the bag she had brought with her. She laid a huge orange bath towel and her clean change of clothes over two hooks which protruded from the wooden walls. She released the plug and almost screamed with shock as the icy water fell on to her overheated body. But after a few moments the spray became quite enjoyable, and she rinsed all the dust and perspiration from her skin with appreciation. After the exhausting day she had experienced it was wonderful to feel clean and cool again, and it was amazing how her doubts and anxieties fell away with the advent of this feeling of well-being. She was about to turn off the water when looking down she saw an enormous beetle crawling across the muddy floor at her feet.

Ordinarily, she would have behaved quite sensibly and stepped out of its way, but in her still overstimulated condition it seemed the last straw. Panic over-riding all her natural inhibitions she let out a sharp cry, and grabbed at the orange towel desperately. Winding it unceremoniously around her, she thrust open the door, almost falling out in her haste, and then found herself grasped roughly by a man who had narrowly avoided being hit by the carelessly opened door.

Carolyn struggled wildly, almost dislodging the indifferently fastened towel, as she looked up into the man’s face. There was no doubt that he was one of the Mexicans with his darkly tanned skin and dark eyes, and she did not care just then who he was. She wanted to be free, to get as far away from that revolting insect, if such a huge thing could be called an insect, as possible.

‘Let me go!’ she commanded, angrily. ‘Let me go!’

‘Calm yourself,’ said the man, coldly, but Carolyn did not notice that he had spoken in English.

‘I won’t calm myself,’ she exclaimed, furiously.

‘Excuse me!’ The sarcasm in the man’s voice was lost on Carolyn, as he stepped past her and secured the catch of the tank, thus preventing the remains of its contents from being lost. Carolyn had forgotten to turn it off in her haste. Then he looked back at her and Carolyn gathered the towel closer about her, as she became aware of the scarcity of her attire. Her damp hair was in disorder about her shoulders, and for the first time in her life she felt unable to cope with the situation. She realised she must appear very foolish and her anger overrode her common decency.

‘How you—you people can live in such appalling circumstances is beyond me!’ she exploded. ‘Like—like animals! Do you realise I could have been eaten alive by the bugs in that ghastly hell-hole!’

The man’s eyes grew colder if that was humanly possible, and for the first time Carolyn became aware of a kind of hauteur about him, and felt the first twinges of apprehension. The man was tall, much taller than most of the Mexicans she had seen since her arrival, with a lean, hard body. His features were lean also, and if not handsome he possessed a compellingly attractive countenance. His hair was thick and black as pitch, and grew rather low on his tanned neck. Dressed in a loose white shirt, and stained, cream cotton trousers who else could he be than one of the labourers?

Then, all at once, her father was there, with Donald Graham, looking hot and flustered, his expression one of annoyance when he looked at Carolyn.

‘Don Carlos,’ he was saying with some humility. ‘Whatever is going on here? Carolyn?’

Don Carlos! Carolyn’s stomach plunged. It couldn’t be true! This man, dressed like one of his own labourers, could not be the lord of Zaracus!

But he was, of course, and now Carolyn knew why her father was looking so angry. Hadn’t he only been telling her half an hour ago that their being in the valley relied on Don Carlos’s permission? But he had also said that Don Carlos was away so surely she could be forgiven for mistaking his identity. But even so, a small voice argued inside her, she had been rude, very rude, and there was no excuse for that, no matter who he was. After all, she was a visitor to his country, and as such ought to act with politeness. What had her father said? With some degree of decorum! That was it, well, she had failed, abysmally, and heaven knew what was going to happen now.

‘I’m afraid this—er—young lady seems to have encountered some difficulty while she was taking a shower,’ Don Carlos was saying, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, I have not the knowledge of her name, or of the reason she is here.’ His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Professor Madison. ‘I gather you know the young lady.’

His accent was effortless, and Carolyn chided herself for not realising that he was no uneducated native from the bush.

Professor Madison’s face was bright red. ‘I’m sorry, Don Carlos, but I feel this is neither the time nor the place to introduce you to my daughter. Carolyn, I would suggest you find your clothes and go to your tent and put them on—at once!’

Carolyn immediately felt as though she had been reduced to about five years old, and it took the greatest amount of courage to open the shower door and retrieve her bag and stuff her clean clothes inside it. As she did so she saw the crushed bug on the floor. Obviously someone had placed their foot firmly on it, preventing any further intrusion on its part. And only one person could have had the chance to do that.

She straightened and emerged from the hut, passing the small group of men without a word, although she allowed herself one glance at Don Carlos. Her eyes met his dark enigmatic ones for one moment, and she felt a surge of fury. She was sure she could see a faint glimmer of sardonic amusement in their depths, and gathering up the ends of the orange towel she made as distinguished an exit as she could.

CHAPTER TWO

CAROLYN was dressed in a slim-fitting pale blue shift of tricel velvet, her hair combed smooth and caught up in a knot on top of her head when her father finally came to find her. He entered her tent looking dark-browed and angry, and Carolyn felt all her earlier trepidation materialise again.

‘All right, all right,’ she said, lighting a cigarette before he could say anything. ‘I’m sorry if I upset your Señ d’Alvarez, or whatever his name is!’

Professor Madison’s mouth was hard. ‘And I suppose you think that is all that is necessary,’ he said, with contempt. ‘My dear Carolyn, you simply can’t go around in this country acting so carelessly! I heard what you said—that the Mexicans lived like savages—and quite frankly it appalled me. If you felt like this, why on earth did you come?’

Carolyn lifted her slim shoulders helplessly. ‘Oh, honestly, Dad, it wasn’t like that at all. Surely, you don’t imagine I walked out of the shower and attacked the man!’

‘Well, what did happen?’

‘Didn’t Don Carlos enlighten you?’ Her tone was sarcastic.

‘Some. Obviously, as a gentleman he forbore to quote me all the distasteful details.’

‘Obviously.’

‘So go on. What did happen?’

Carolyn sighed, and drew on her cigarette deeply. ‘Well, I was having a shower, as you know, when this enormous—beetle, I suppose you would call it, came crawling across the floor like some monstrous reincarnation of a cockroach. Naturally, I was startled, to put it mildly. I think I just grabbed the towel, and dashed out, and of course, this man—Don Carlos—was outside. Well, I practically fell into his arms, and I guess I just vent my fear and anger on him.’ She flushed. ‘I didn’t even mean what I said. I just wanted to lash out at somebody, and he—was there,’ she finished lamely.

‘I see.’ Her father drew out his pipe. ‘And I suppose you realise that by—lashing out, as you put it, you jeopardised the security of all of us here!’

‘I wasn’t to know he was who he turned out to be,’ protested Carolyn. ‘Good lord, you had told me he was away. Besides, he doesn’t dress like a—like an overlord, or anything. He—he looked like one of the Mexicans I’ve seen helping around the camp.’

‘Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez doesn’t have to look like anything; he just is! As you get to know him better—or perhaps I should say, if you get to know him better, you will realise that he emanates authority, with every gesture, every movement he makes. Besides, he is well liked by everyone, and in short, treats his workers with real consideration. That is why it is insufferable that you should treat him so abominably. Can’t you see that by treating him like that, no matter who you thought he was, you have insulted him, his authority, if you like. He would not care for you to speak to his lowliest peasant as you spoke to him!’

‘Oh, Dad!’ Carolyn studied the glowing tip of her cigarette. It was getting dark in the tent, and the professor leaned across to switch on the table lamp by the bed.

Her father chewed his pipe reflectively, and looked at Carolyn intently. ‘I—I may have to ask you to return to England,’ he began.

She swung round. ‘You may what!’

‘I’m sure you heard every word I said, Carolyn.’

‘But why? Dad, honestly, isn’t this getting a bit ridiculous? I mean, all right, I was rude, but heavens, the conditions are primitive. All right, I shouldn’t have said what I did, and if it makes you any happier, I’ll apologise to your Don Carlos—–’

‘That you most certainly will do, whatever happens,’ ground out her father. ‘It appears to me, Carolyn, that the freedom and lack of authority you have experienced in London have changed you from a decent, thoughtful child, into a sharp-tongued young woman, without much thought for anyone but herself.’

‘Dad!’ Carolyn sounded hurt.

‘Well, it’s true, Carolyn. I suppose I have been rather careless in my duties as your father, but I always thought you were well-cared for. I do not care for too much of this modern idea of plain speaking.’

Carolyn stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I think it’s all been taken far too seriously. I was tired and frightened. I should think anyone in my position, any woman that is, would have done the same.’

‘That is a matter of opinion. Certainly, no one in Don Carlos’s sphere would have accused him of being an animal!’

‘Oh, for goodness sake! What do you want me to say? Where is the man, and I’ll apologise?’

‘He’s gone back to his home.’

‘Why did he come, anyway?’

‘To let me know he had returned. He has been in Acapulco for the last three weeks, and only returned this morning. It is unfortunate he had to be apprised of your arrival in such a manner. As it is, I have yet to explain that I agreed for you to come. I knew your presence here would not please him. After all, it is true, digs of this kind are not suitable places for young women alone. Usually, if any women are taken along, there are at least two or three of them in the party. I really feel I have made a mistake, Carolyn.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not going to make me go back?’ She clasped her hands. ‘Oh, please, don’t do that! At least, give me a chance to show that I am as capable as anyone else of adapting myself to my surroundings. It’s all been a storm in a tea-cup, so couldn’t we forget it?’ Her eyes were appealing.

Professor Madison shrugged his heavy shoulders, and studied his pipe thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know, Carolyn,’ he began, slowly. ‘If Don Carlos comes tomorrow and I have to tell him that you’re staying for an indefinite period, I feel I may find myself on rather uncertain ground.’

‘Don’t tell him how long I am staying. Say I was in Mexico on holiday, and decided to look you up.’

‘And you think he would believe that?’

Carolyn shrugged, but remembering Don Carlos’s dark, enigmatic eyes, she doubted it. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he would be perfectly capable of seeing through any artifice she might adopt.

‘Well, what are you going to tell him then? Am I staying? Or are you going to make me go back to that terrible modern life in London?’ She used the word deliberately, and Professor Madison sighed.

‘I don’t want to send you back,’ he agreed, thoughtfully. ‘I was glad to see you were showing a little spunk and initiative by coming here. After all, it is far removed from the life you have always known. But if you stay, you will have to find something useful to do, and something less decorative to wear.’ He surveyed her thoroughly. ‘That dress would be suitable for the cocktail bar at the Savoy, not the Mexican bush. Haven’t you brought any sensible clothes?’

‘I don’t have any sensible clothes,’ said Carolyn, a trifle moodily. ‘Honestly, what are these men? Sex maniacs, or something?’

The professor laughed at last, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘All right, Carolyn. All right. You can stay, at least for the time being. But any more exhibitions like this one, and you will have no second chances, is this understood?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Good. Then I think we can join the others for dinner. We do have a very good cook, and the food is not unacceptable. Plain stuff, mostly, with plenty of soups and stews and so on, but it’s usually very tasty, and after a day at the dig, anything tastes good.’

‘Some recommendation,’ remarked Carolyn, a little dryly, as she followed him to the table.

Set out in the open, a trestle table was set about with wooden seats, and Carolyn was seated with her father on one side of her, and David Laurence on the other. David had not had much chance to speak to her before this, and smiled as she sat down, and said, in an undertone:

‘I hear you’ve had a spot of bother!’

Carolyn stifled her giggle. ‘I expect the whole camp has heard,’ she murmured. ‘But seriously, though, what a fuss! Just over losing my temper!’

‘Still, Maddie says you’re staying.’

‘I’m on probation,’ said Carolyn, wrinkling her nose. ‘What is this?’ as a kind of soup was placed in front of her by a beaming Mexican in a white overall.

‘It’s delicious,’ said David. ‘Soup with noodles and vegetables. A Mexican speciality.’

Carolyn tasted it tentatively, and found he was right. It was delicious, and she ate hers with some relish. It seemed hours since lunch at the airport in Veracruz. The dessert was a kind of paste, made of fruit and sugar, and hardened in the sun, called ate. It was a little sweet for her liking, but she managed it, and afterwards there was more delicious coffee.

The evening was warm, and sweet-scented, and after the heat of the day was very refreshing. Carolyn lay back in her chair, and smoked a cigarette, listening to the men talking about the day at the dig.

‘Where are you digging?’ she asked David, as they rose from the table and walked casually across the grass together.

‘Over there,’ he indicated a mound of earth. ‘Beyond that small mound there is lower land, and that’s where we’re working. Tomorrow you must come and see for yourself. It’s quite interesting, even for a novice.’ He grinned.

Carolyn smiled at him. He was very easy to get along with, and she supposed he was handsome in a rather boyish way. His hair was brown, flecked with a lighter colour where the sun had bleached it, and he was solidly built although not much taller than herself.

‘I doubt whether I’ll get that close to the digging,’ she remarked, leaning back against the bonnet of one of the Land-Rovers. ‘I think my father intends to keep me firmly in the background.’

David chuckled. ‘Then I should say he has quite a job in mind,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me, are you still tied up with that creep Alaistair Kendrew?’

Carolyn drew on her cigarette before replying. ‘Alaistair’s not a creep,’ she protested. ‘I admit, he can be rather a bore at times, but I’ve known him since we were infants, and I guess Merle thinks he’s safe.’ Merle was her eldest sister.

‘And his money’s good,’ remarked David, dryly.

‘Oh, David!’

‘Well, it’s true. After all, having Lord Berringdon as his uncle is quite a recommendation.’

‘Not to me,’ said Carolyn, briefly.

‘No,’ David looked repentant. ‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry, Carolyn. Come on, I’ll take you for a drive to the lake. It’s not far from here. We all go there to swim. It’s perfectly safe, and you can see Don Carlos’s hacienda from the shoreline.’ He stubbed out his cigarette. ‘It’s quite spectacular, and after the horror of the journey here, I guess you could do with some convincing that this place isn’t as barbaric as it seems.’

Carolyn hesitated. ‘Oh, David, I’d love to, but—but Dad said I hadn’t to—well—–’ Her voice trailed away.

David studied her for a moment. ‘What’s wrong? What has he said?’

‘Nothing really, except that I shouldn’t get involved—with anyone.’

‘I’m not asking you to get involved,’ said David, reasonably. ‘Go ask him then; ask him if you can take a ride in the Land-Rover.’

Carolyn sighed. ‘You’re making it terribly difficult, David.’

David grimaced. ‘Why? You know you’ll do as you like whatever he says.’

Carolyn frowned. ‘No, I shan’t! Oh, David. …’

‘Oh, David, what?’ She swung round to face Simon Dean. ‘Hello, Carolyn. What has Dave been asking you to do now?’

‘Clear off, Simon, there’s a good boy,’ said David, his light tone belying his annoyance. ‘Can’t you see, this is a private matter.’ He glared at the other man. ‘Go write a letter to your wife!’

Simon’s face darkened. ‘Mind your own business, Dave! Now what can be interesting you both? Are you trying to persuade the professor’s fair daughter into getting herself into more bother?’

Carolyn flushed at Simon’s sarcasm. ‘There’s nothing like that, Simon.’ She glanced at the broad masculine watch on her wrist. ‘Look, it’s getting late, and I’ve had a long day. I think I’ll retire and leave you two to your private arguments. Some other time, David.’

David shrugged, and turned away, and Simon said: ‘I’ll escort you to your tent, Carolyn.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ replied a familiar voice behind them, and Professor Madison took his daughter’s arm. ‘Come along, Carolyn.’ When they were out of ear-shot, he said: ‘You see, already you appear to be causing dissension.’

Carolyn looked exasperated. ‘David asked me to drive to the lake with him. He said it’s quite spectacular.’

‘Yes, Lake Magdalene. Don Carlos’s hacienda is at the far side of the lake. It is a beautiful place, but I wouldn’t advise you to go swimming at night with any of the men.’

‘We weren’t going to swim,’ exclaimed Carolyn, and then frowned. ‘At least, I don’t think we were.’

‘Dave and Simon often go down to the lake after dinner to bathe. It’s the best time of day, and the water is cool and refreshing.’

‘I see. Well, David didn’t mention that to me.’ She sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have gone, anyway. I’m not that naïve, darling.’

The professor smiled at her. ‘No, I don’t think you are,’ he agreed, nodding. ‘Now goodnight. I hope you get a good night’s sleep. I hope the crickets don’t keep you awake. We’re not greatly troubled by them here.’

‘Thank you, Dad. Goodnight.’ She kissed his cheek and entered her tent, securing the flap after her. Someone had placed a bowl of cold water on the table, and Carolyn washed before undressing. She had brought pyjamas with her, and put them on rather nervously, wondering how much protection was really provided by canvas. Then she switched out the light, and climbed into the camp bed. With its air-mattress it was quite comfortable, but it was all too new and strange for her to be able to sleep.

The darkness outside, after the men retired, was penetrating, and she thought she had never known it could be so black. She could hear the cicadas, as her father had said, and occasionally the strange screaming roar of a mountain lion, somewhere in the hills above the encampment. These sounds were unnerving; the scuffling in the undergrowth around the camp seemed close at hand, and she wondered wildly what she would do if some untamed creature hurtled into her tent.

She sat up abruptly, and reached for her handbag, extracting her cigarettes and lighter. In the small flame of the lighter, the tent seemed filled with shadows, encroaching patches of darkness hiding heaven knew what mysteries, and she hastily put out the light, preferring not to see. Then another sound came to her, a pattering and swell of sound that grew deafening. At first she had no idea what it could be, and she sat still, petrified, until suddenly she relaxed, and almost laughed out loud with relief; it was raining, heavy torrential rain, that beat against the canvas savagely.

She finished her cigarette, and lay down again, listening to the rain. The sound was a familiar one, for all her strange surroundings, and eventually she fell asleep, a faint smile on her lips.

The next morning she was awakened by her father bringing her in a cup of steaming hot tea, which was very welcome. She struggled up, brushing back her hair from her eyes, and screwing up her eyes against the glare of the sun outside.

‘Oh lord,’ she groaned, tiredly. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just after six-thirty,’ replied her father, smiling. ‘I know it’s early, but it gets very hot here after midday, and no one works in the heat of the afternoon, so we always start early. You’ll probably find you’ll take a siesta after lunch and feel completely relaxed and fresh again around four in the afternoon.’

Carolyn grimaced. ‘I didn’t get to sleep for hours last night. Did you hear that rain?’

The professor laughed. ‘No. I usually go out like a light as soon as my head touches the pillow. But I know we have had a heavy downpour by the state of the ground. Fortunately the sun dries everything up very quickly.’

Carolyn nodded in acknowledgement, and sipped the tea. ‘What am I to do this morning?’ she asked. ‘Can I see the dig?’

‘I expect so. I’ll take you along myself after breakfast. Hurry and dress, and José will have eggs and bacon ready for you—–’

‘Hold on,’ exclaimed Carolyn. ‘I don’t want eggs and bacon. I usually have a drink of orange juice and some coffee, that’s all.’

The professor looked concerned. ‘Well, you can’t possibly exist on orange juice and coffee until two in the afternoon when we usually have lunch. Okay, if you don’t want eggs and bacon, you can have a couple of tortillas, have you tried them yet? José does a delicious concoction with fried bananas, I’ll have him rustle something like that up for you.’

‘No!’ Carolyn was horrified. ‘Bananas are terribly fattening. I don’t want to look like a house-end by the time I leave here!’

‘Now, Carolyn, I’m not going to stand here arguing with you.’ The professor looked adamant. ‘This is Mexico, not London, England, and when in Rome you do as the Romans do, and in this case it means obeying my orders.’

‘Oh, Dad! Honestly, coffee will be fine.’

Professor Madison frowned. ‘Get dressed. I’ll see José and discuss it with him.’

Carolyn slid out of bed, rubbing her eyes. ‘All right. All right. But don’t be surprised if I only have coffee, anyway.’

After her father had gone, she made a cursory examination of her luggage. Last evening, the cases had been stacked in a corner, and she had only unpacked what she needed. Glancing around she realised that she would not have nearly enough space to unpack all her cases, so she contented herself by hanging a couple of crushable dresses in the polythene stand, and searched through another case for a pair of denim pants, and a pale blue shirt. With her hair tied into a pony tail, she felt more businesslike, and emerged from the tent feeling more ready to face the day.