He felt her hand pressed on his arm, her touch sad and gentle. She wanted his tenderness. He knew the isolation and the strain his design put upon her and himself. Yet it was what he had to do. He hardened himself further against her. Remorse and misery arose in him, but he answered without a visible sign of either. "Understand I do not despise you," he murmured. "But do not cling to me-it is but a memory and a dream you chase. I cannot bear the burden of you. You must find your way without me."

She released his arm, and he saw in her face she would make no further effort towards him. "I shall go away from you." She could say no more for the very intensity of her feelings. He bent and went away into his tent. For the moment she remained unmoved. She couldn't turn and face the others. She was too much uncovered, much too exposed. She returned to the fire, but her face was averted. She wished to go somewhere hidden from their eyes.

"Never mind him," said Derek, gathering up his things to retire for the night. "He's just a hot-blooded wretch and fears he may injure you." Magenta winced and said nothing. Derek remained seated, holding his half-gathered things as if forgetful of the task. He tried to begin a conversation about the evening, but it died out and there was silence.

"You may have my bed," Cedrik offered her, at length. "Someone should keep watch, and I can't sleep."

"You must be weary with travel," she said. Her steady gaze faltered. She could scarcely bear to look at him. Her beloved had left her cold and stripped to the heart.

He shrugged bleakly. "We're from the Imperial; we don't sleep. I'll crash with Derek if the urge to sleep becomes more unbearable than sharing a bed with him."

"He likes it," said Derek.

Magenta made a painful effort to smile. The helpless quiet remained unbroken. Night, in which everything seems all the more grim, seemed pressing in on them. The sounds of nature were tense and withheld. Cedrik considered her sympathetically. Her look of misery was shadowed with some form of contempt. An angered hurt was in her eyes, black sorrow and ashes in her heart.

"You mustn't judge him too harshly," said Cedrik. "He can be stubborn and not given to showing himself in the best of lights, but he always comes round in the end."

"You needn't defend your cousin," she said, slowly looking up. If not for the softened expression her tone might have been taken for anger. Magenta did not love him the less but began to doubt his heart. Yet in her own she found it difficult to believe he was truly lost to her.

Where Deacon lay he could hear their voices clearly enough to apprehend everything spoken. He waited on all her words, his throat tight, as if he dreaded their persisted consoling might draw from her details of misery he could not bear to hear. He rolled over to lie on his stomach, pressing himself into the bed in anger and torment, feeling sick at heart. He had sought to convince her he no longer loved her and succeeded so far that she resolved to part with him at first chance. If he loved her, he would prevent her from leaving. Having arrived at this hurtful resolution, she said to Cedrik, "At the first city we come upon, I shall part with you. Until then I hope not to prove a burden."

She thought of Deacon as she spoke this and felt a hot, tight spot in her breast. Had he not been concealed from view she would have seen what violent effect her words produced. Deacon lay in utter agony. He waited and nothing more was spoken. All became very quiet. For the moment his misery was greater than his anger. He had denied himself of her and felt the worse for it. He would have liked to have held her while he slept.

Chapter34.

To Sandrine -eaconwas not pleased to discover Magenta had chosen to break from Cedrik and go her own way but could say nothing about the matter. Regretfully, Deacon told her Sandrine was the nearest city, and should she wish it still, she could stop there. It was a charming, quiet place only slightly off their course, though it would still take many days to get there, even if they rode hard.

In the afternoon they lunched by a pretty stream. Derek took a hot potato from the coals and tossed it deftly in his hand before quickly dropping it on the plate, which he had heaped with salted meats, bread, and cheese. He joined Magenta further down by the stream. Through a mouthful of food, he offered to share with her. Often he made her smile and entertained her. He was sweet and kind. He did not fear to touch her.

For the remainder of their break, while they refreshed the horses and took time to rest, Derek and Magenta kept in one another's company near the water's edge. To Derek's way of thinking she was becoming more and more a perfect creature. He could not regard her unawed. She was so still and so beautiful.

Deacon and Cedrik were sitting near the horses, watching the other two in their exchanges. Deacon affected a manner of indifference that it was plain he did not feel.

"So you are to wander about aimlessly?" asked Cedrik, "with no thought or reason as to where you might go?"

"A course will present itself soon enough," Deacon replied.

"It's unlike you to choose the path of a vagabond, drifting without thought of consequences."

"What else am I to do? Return to the Imperial and be condemned to society I care nothing for? With the elves, what is there for me?"

"You have family waiting at both."

Deacon sniffed with stubborn disinterest, looking down.

"Then you condemn yourself to loneliness?"

"That's not my intention."

"What is your intention?"

Deacon set his jaw and without looking up, said slowly, "You have two choices; you may follow me to wherever I happen to go, or you may return home. Do not question me further about what isn't your concern."

"You are my concern," Cedrik said hotly.

The other two returned and ended the conversation. They packed up and were ready to leave. Cedrik a.s.sisted Magenta onto his horse. When she was settled in the saddle, he hauled himself up behind her. He grasped the reins, and with a swift kick they jolted off at a steady pace. The other two followed after.

They travelled in this fashion for several hours. Deacon rode in utter silence. His stomach held a twisting, grinding anger. He occasionally stole a glance at Cedrik's hand round Magenta's waist and would feel a swift pang of misery. After a time he could see that Cedrik, with the added burden of holding another person, was growing weary, though he would not mention it.

"The night will soon be closing in," said Deacon, drawing rein and dismounting. "We can lie here tonight."

Deacon and Magenta spoke not a word. After a time Cedrik said that he had seen a pretty little rock pool down in among the trees. She might like to go and bathe while they set up camp. This she did, grateful to be alone for a time. The water was slightly cool on her flesh, but it was a pleasure to stand so quiet and to let the water come over her shoulders. To bathe in a pool was strange and primitive, but beautiful.

Derek lay unemployed while Deacon and Cedrik set up the tents. "She has been a while," he said, restlessly. "Perhaps I should go check on her."

"Perhaps you should get off your hide and help us," said Cedrik.

Pressing his head back, Derek sighed, his mind still playing with pleasant and indulgent thoughts. His leg swayed back and forth. His hands were clasped on his stomach. "Ah, she's like a princess. The way she moves-have you ever seen such unaffected regality? I'll bet she takes good care of herself. All proper and ladylike."

Cedrik said, "Make yourself useful and get a fire started."

Derek rolled up onto his feet. Conversation led by him turned quickly again to the absent woman. Cedrik and Deacon suffered through his appraisal of her in silence. He spoke as if she were not of this world, not real to him, but as if she, a fragile, beautiful thing, was from a dream. Deacon worked without lifting his face. His hands moved with quick, jarring movements as he tied down and secured the tent. He found it difficult to disguise his annoyance.

"It will be sad to part with her," said Derek. "Perhaps we can convince her to remain with us for a time longer."

When Cedrik saw no effort was put forth to start a fire, he said, "Now would be better than later!"

"All right, I'm on it." Quiet for several minutes while engaged in his task, Derek took great care to make a neat ring of rocks around some fire wood. When he was done, he stood clicking his fingers over it, indicating Deacon should set it alight. The latter rose slowly to his feet, dropping what he was doing, and with a look of derisive contempt, set the fire ablaze with flaring violence.

"Easy!" said Derek, leaning back and shielding his face. Presently the flame settled and was softly snapping. Derek sat down with a drink in his hand, content to talk about Magenta. Cedrik made several failed attempts to change the subject, noticing that Deacon became increasingly riled, but despite his best efforts he found it impossible to redirect the conversation. With an impatience amounting almost to anger, Deacon clenched his fist, an action that caused Derek to crush his pewter cup, the contents spilling over his pants. He started to his feet to avoid the spray of liquid.

"Curse it all! What is wrong with you?" he said, wiping the wetness from his trousers.

"You talk too much," said Deacon. His head was bent forward, watching the pan he heated over the fire. He had just thrown tea into the boiling water.

"Why should I hide my regard?" said Derek, with sudden anger, instead of the indignant whine he would usually have favoured. He tossed the empty cup at his feet and went away from them. Deacon appeared undisturbed. He shook his head and set to preparing the evening meal.

The hissing of frying meat could be heard by Magenta as she returned. The brothers were not to be seen. Deacon was cooking something, crouching over the campfire. She saw that from behind he was very handsome, with a strong, broad back. The nape of his neck was tanned and smooth. She watched the firm setting of his shoulders move beneath his shirt as he leaned forward.

Derek came ducking out from his tent when he saw her just outside. "You've returned from the water looking very beautiful," he said. She smiled and returned the brush and soap to Cedrik's bag. She had pinned her hair so as not to get it wet. "Was it very cold?" he asked.

"Not very cold," she answered.

He watched entranced as she removed the pins and let her hair fall free. "You're chilled right through," he said. "You should have waited till morning. See, you're shivering. Don't deny it. Come sit by the fire. You'll be warm again."

They joined Deacon by the fire. "Am I able to help?" she asked him.

"Give me that plate," he said, lifting his hand and pointing. She did so, then became very quiet. He did not really want her help. Derek sat close to her, attentive. He was watching her indulgently, enjoying her.

"Women should always have their hair down."

At the comment Deacon glanced up briefly, then down again. His face looked heavy and impa.s.sive. He hung forward a little, staring at the sizzling pan. He never said a word. A certain resentment filled him. He was like a victim there.

Cedrik soon accompanied them. "Give me some of this; it looks good," he said, helping himself from the pan. "Got coffee?"

"Tea," answered Deacon.

Their time together round the fire was not chatty nor cosy, but silent. Deacon sat as a stranger among them. As night fell darker, the firelight played more and more strongly on his features, and the shadow upon him seemed to grow darker and heavier.

Derek stabbed at his food. "This is good," he said, trying to make small talk. He took careful mouthfuls; after his experience in Cheydon he had a distinct fear of anything remotely hot, and his cousin was known to have a heavy hand with spices in his cooking.

Deacon was the first to rise. Magenta noticed he scarcely seemed to eat. His face looked pale and peaked. "Will you have nothing more?" she asked.

"No. I'm going to bed." He sounded angry and tired.

When he was gone, Cedrik said to Magenta, "He's apt at making strangers of all the people he meets."

"Have you known him from boyhood?" she asked at length.

"Never for any extended period," said Cedrik. "All his life he's lived far from us." He frowned, snapping a twig between his fingers, tossing it aside. "He is much changed." He hesitated, then asked, "Has he told you his reasons for going to Terium?"

Magenta looked down. "No, he has said nothing to me."

Alone in his bed, Deacon went to sleep feeling a greater emptiness than hunger.

Wrath, vengeance, hatred, cannot breathe in the same atmosphere as love, and so it was that love began to wither and withdraw, not without bitter consequences and painful conflicts. Deacon had made himself insensitive toward her, but it was damaging to his own health. It affected him, yet still he persisted. She wanted to protect him from pain and hurt, but her presence seemed to cause him more distress. Though it was difficult, she understood that whatever trouble and heartache he suffered, he wanted to be left to himself, and so she remained apart. She did not, however, love him the less for having to love at a more conscious distance. In her heart she remained constant to him.

After dinner one night, Deacon stationed himself under a tree somewhat apart from the others. His relentlessly agitated mind was labouring with heavy thoughts as he struggled to maintain the necessary courage to take a life, acutely struggling with his own soul. Magenta watched him in his loneliness. It was difficult to keep silent when silence was so painful.

The result of too many haunted nights was beginning to show upon his features. Briefly he turned his face toward her. That glance had revealed a desperate appeal, but he in the same instance compelled his countenance to resume its former expression of detached indifference. He was very much estranged. Magenta sat irresolute for some time, then arose and went quietly away. The cold separation between them was cruel.

"Look at the stubborn devil," said Derek suddenly, as if it had been on his mind all the while. Cedrik glanced up to see his attention was burning on Deacon. "One of us must say something."

"No, leave him to himself," Cedrik said with a measure of sternness. "It will only bring harm."

Derek made an abrupt sound and poked the ground with a stick. They spoke no more but were too comfortable with one another for the silence to be awkward. Derek watched Magenta with increasing sensitivity. He thought her love the truest kind, where all is given in exchange for nothing. It pained him to see her suffer. She was as if dying for the love of him, for she was daily growing more and more faint.

In the manner of a man who has nerved himself up to the a.s.sertion of a difficult task, Derek approached Deacon. He tried to appear casual, speaking of whatever came to mind. Deacon frowned at the mumbled trivialities. "Are you talking in your sleep? What are you trying to say to me?"

"You look like you've been kicked by a horse."

Deacon smiled, not without some resentment. "Is that what you came to tell me?"

Derek became serious and resting his brow against the rough bark, looked down at his cousin. "The dullest can see you love her." Deacon's countenance darkened instantly. "You do, do you not?" The expression on his face Derek took at once as guilt. He said excitedly, "Then love her, man. For pity's sake, can you not see how she suffers? How is she to know you hold affection for her, if you remain cynically observant from the shadows?"

"The day I take advice from you in matters of the heart is the day I hang myself."

"She needs you," said Derek with greater emphasis. "If I, of all people, can see it, how can you alone be blind to it?"

Deacon rose to leave, saying in a tone intended to quench conversation, "She would not be happy to find you discussing such things with me." As he turned, his eyes encountered those of the young woman who was the subject of their meeting. She was sitting beside Cedrik, and he was saying something to which she was listening with only partial attention. For a moment the eyes of both were locked; then each turned from the other, Magenta with disappointment, Deacon with vexation.

Deacon began to make his way further from camp, but his antagonist persisted at his shoulder. Derek's persistent encouragements hara.s.sed him almost intolerably. Both came to an abrupt stop when he at last said, "What do you want from me? It is her failing to harbour fascination for me."

"She loves you!" said Derek. "And I would be greatly mistaken if you have not given her reason. More than friendly, I should say."

"You're going a step too far." His chest was hot in an anguish of suppression.

"d.a.m.n it, why do you have to be so callous with her?" Deacon looked away into the night, swallowing his bitterness. Derek waited several moments before venturing to speak further. "Don't sit in the shadows brooding. She's afraid to go near you."

Deacon shook his head wearily. "She does not fear me."

"She does; any fool can see it! She's terrified of you, and not a person in this world would blame her. You've been as black as death. Why are you so disturbed? She is a prize. She is worth striving for, and yet you would treat her as the plague and bless the stars at getting rid of her. She doesn't understand."

Derek went on in this accusing tone, exasperated to the point of desperation. The other remained sullenly silent. The personal offences to himself he let pa.s.s, but when Derek persisted on her languishment he began to grow hot.

"Don't presume to understand her after a few mere days of play," he said bitterly.

Contempt arose in Derek. "She has confided in me more these past days than she has you."

Deacon turned and took hold of him violently. The change in his manner was very sudden. "Speak not another word to me, or we shall cross one another again." He had been struggling with himself all this while.

"I had hoped," said Derek, "you would go to her and speak your heart freely. Now I pray you stay far from her."

Deacon's face paled visibly. He released Derek with a rough push, muttering something about being a fool. He turned and began to walk.

"I'm not such a fool to be blind to her!" cried Derek with an outburst of acc.u.mulated spite. When left alone he winced with confusion and pain. Instead of awakening tender impulses in Deacon, he seemed only to succeed in rousing anger and jealousy.

"I told you to let it alone," said his brother, when he returned.

Chapter35.

Tanglewood -he night was clear, the moon full. Magenta and the brothers stood about the fire. Derek was about to show them something. Deacon sat by himself, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, when he glimpsed that Derek was fiddling with a pouch of sorts. He started to his feet to investigate.

Cedrik cautioned his brother, "Don't play with such things."

Derek announced that he was going to do it.