out.â
Lathrop stared at him, and then down at his stomach. That, you mean?â he asked, poking at the stringy mess with his finger.
Eyre said nothing, but nodded rapidly. He was sure that he could already feel the coldness of death seeping into his legs; soon it would overtake him altogether.
âThatâs the lining of your jacket,â Lathrop told him. âGot torn, thatâs all; and that bit thereâs your pocket, with your pocket-handkerchey. Ripped your guts out my Aunt Fanny. Wish they damn well had, the damage youâve done.â
Eyre took another, longer breath, and then looked at Lathrop and attempted a friendly chuckle. It came out like a ghastly, irrational honk; and he was glad that Lathrop didnât hear it, and turned away.
It was then that Eyre realised how hushed the garden was; even the night-parrots were silent; and the insectshad hesitated as if rain were expected, or an unfelt earth tremor had shaken the deeper levels of the surrounding hills.
Eyre said to Utyana, âWhatâs going on? Help me sit up.â
âYes, sir.â Utyana smiled, and continued to stroke his forehead.
âFor Godâs sake!â Eyre demanded. âI want to sit up!â
Utyana at last realised what he wanted, and gripped him under the armpits with his thin black muscly hands, and helped him to sit. Eyre looked around, and the tableau that he saw in front of him was so strange that at first he couldnât believe that it was real.
The greyhounds were still poised in the ha-ha; with Captain Henry standing a little way back; and Lathrop commanding the scene with one hand firmly planted on his hip, his musket angled over his shoulder, and the evening breeze billowing his nightshirt around his thick white ankles. But it was Yanluga who caught Eyreâs attention. He was sitting cross-legged on the far edge of the ha-ha, his back very straight, and he was whispering, a peculiar hollow whisper that gave Eyre a prickly feeling all the way down his back, the way some particularly plaintive music can.
Yanluga was charming the greyhounds as if they were children. They stood hypnotised, their ears and their tails depressed, their white eyes wide, watching him as if they couldnât bear to let him out of their sight for a single instant. Eyre didnât recognise the words that Yanluga was using; they didnât even sound like Wirangu. But the effect they had on the greyhounds was undeniable; they stood pale and still like dogs from the Bayeux Tapestry; and the moon which had now moved out from behind the stringy-bark gums gave the garden a look of enchantment. Yanluga would have called it a
mirang
, a place where magic is practised.
Lathrop took two or three steps back, so that he was standing next to Eyre.
âRemarkable, isnât it?â he said, without taking his eyesoff Yanluga. âYouâd be quite amazed at what some of these blackfellows can do. Sensitive to nature, thatâs what it is; only a step away from being animals themselves, and thereâs the proof of it. What civilised man could speak to a pack of greyhounds, so that theyâd listen?â
Eyre said thickly, âIt seems that he saved my life.â
âWell, youâre probably right,â replied Lathrop. âAfter all, those are rare hounds, more than £50 apiece they cost me, and Iâd have been loathe to shoot them, especially for the sake of a chap whoâs already trespassed twice in one day both on my property and on my patience; and abused my hospitality to the point of theft. You realise that if I speak to Captain Tennant, I could have you locked up; hanged, even. It wouldnât do you any harm at all, hanging. It might improve your manners.â
Eyre said, âI am conscious, sir, that I owe you an apology. But I hardly think that being in love with Charlotte can be construed as a capital crime.â
âAbduction is a capital crime,
Lathrop stared at him, and then down at his stomach. That, you mean?â he asked, poking at the stringy mess with his finger.
Eyre said nothing, but nodded rapidly. He was sure that he could already feel the coldness of death seeping into his legs; soon it would overtake him altogether.
âThatâs the lining of your jacket,â Lathrop told him. âGot torn, thatâs all; and that bit thereâs your pocket, with your pocket-handkerchey. Ripped your guts out my Aunt Fanny. Wish they damn well had, the damage youâve done.â
Eyre took another, longer breath, and then looked at Lathrop and attempted a friendly chuckle. It came out like a ghastly, irrational honk; and he was glad that Lathrop didnât hear it, and turned away.
It was then that Eyre realised how hushed the garden was; even the night-parrots were silent; and the insectshad hesitated as if rain were expected, or an unfelt earth tremor had shaken the deeper levels of the surrounding hills.
Eyre said to Utyana, âWhatâs going on? Help me sit up.â
âYes, sir.â Utyana smiled, and continued to stroke his forehead.
âFor Godâs sake!â Eyre demanded. âI want to sit up!â
Utyana at last realised what he wanted, and gripped him under the armpits with his thin black muscly hands, and helped him to sit. Eyre looked around, and the tableau that he saw in front of him was so strange that at first he couldnât believe that it was real.
The greyhounds were still poised in the ha-ha; with Captain Henry standing a little way back; and Lathrop commanding the scene with one hand firmly planted on his hip, his musket angled over his shoulder, and the evening breeze billowing his nightshirt around his thick white ankles. But it was Yanluga who caught Eyreâs attention. He was sitting cross-legged on the far edge of the ha-ha, his back very straight, and he was whispering, a peculiar hollow whisper that gave Eyre a prickly feeling all the way down his back, the way some particularly plaintive music can.
Yanluga was charming the greyhounds as if they were children. They stood hypnotised, their ears and their tails depressed, their white eyes wide, watching him as if they couldnât bear to let him out of their sight for a single instant. Eyre didnât recognise the words that Yanluga was using; they didnât even sound like Wirangu. But the effect they had on the greyhounds was undeniable; they stood pale and still like dogs from the Bayeux Tapestry; and the moon which had now moved out from behind the stringy-bark gums gave the garden a look of enchantment. Yanluga would have called it a
mirang
, a place where magic is practised.
Lathrop took two or three steps back, so that he was standing next to Eyre.
âRemarkable, isnât it?â he said, without taking his eyesoff Yanluga. âYouâd be quite amazed at what some of these blackfellows can do. Sensitive to nature, thatâs what it is; only a step away from being animals themselves, and thereâs the proof of it. What civilised man could speak to a pack of greyhounds, so that theyâd listen?â
Eyre said thickly, âIt seems that he saved my life.â
âWell, youâre probably right,â replied Lathrop. âAfter all, those are rare hounds, more than £50 apiece they cost me, and Iâd have been loathe to shoot them, especially for the sake of a chap whoâs already trespassed twice in one day both on my property and on my patience; and abused my hospitality to the point of theft. You realise that if I speak to Captain Tennant, I could have you locked up; hanged, even. It wouldnât do you any harm at all, hanging. It might improve your manners.â
Eyre said, âI am conscious, sir, that I owe you an apology. But I hardly think that being in love with Charlotte can be construed as a capital crime.â
âAbduction is a capital crime,
Similar Books
