Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [498]
The watchdog came rushing out of the watchman’s lair and began to bark. But Besi was already moving swiftly down the stairs, as nimbly as a plump little doe down a steep cliff.
‘Hush, hush!’ she called. The dog turned to her, swinging its black jowls around and making a mock charge to the bottom of the stairs. It thrust out a length of tongue and spread saliva across Besi’s hand without in any way relaxing its menacing scowl.
‘Down,’ she said. ‘Good boy.’
The captain came across the hall and clutched her arm. They stared into each other’s eyes, hers a deep deep brown, his a startling grey. He was tall and slim, a true pure Uskuti, and unlike the proliferating Odims in every way. Thanks to the Oligarch’s troop movements, the captain had been billeted on Odim the previous day, and Odim had reluctantly made room for him among his family on the top floor. When the captain and Besi clapped eyes on each other, Besi – whose survival through a hazardous life had had something to do with her impressionability – had fallen in love with him straight away.
A plan came immediately into her mind.
‘Let’s have a walk outside,’ she said. ‘The watchman’s not here.’
He held her even more tightly.
‘It’s cold outside.’
All he needed was her slight imperious shake of the head, and then they moved together to the door, looking up furtively into the shadows of the staircase. But Odim was closeted in his room and one woman or another would be playing a binnaduria and singing him songs of forsaken fortresses in Kuj-Juvec, where maidens were betrayed and white gloves, dropped one fateful dimday, were forever treasured.
Captain Fashnalgid put his heavy boot to the chest of the hound – which had shown every sign of following them away from captivity – and whisked Besi Besamitikahl into the outside world. He was a man of decision in the realm of love. Grasping her arm firmly, he led her across the courtyard and out of the gate where the oil lamp burned.
As one they turned to the right, heading up the cobbled street.
‘The church,’ she said. Neither said another word, for the cold wind blew in their faces, coming from the Circumpolar Mountains with ice on its breath.
In the street, winding upwards with it, went a line of pale dogthrush trees, wan between the two enclosing stone cliffs of houses. Their leaves flapped in the wind. A file of soldiers, muffled, heads down, walked on the other side of the road, their boots setting up echoes. The sky was a sludgy grey which spread to everything beneath it.
In the church, lights burned. A congregation cried its evensong. Since the church had a slightly bohemian reputation, Odim never came here. Outside its walls, tall man-high stones stood in rows, more correct than soldiers, commemorating those whose days beneath the sky were done. The furtive lovers picked their way among the memorials and hid against a shadowy sheltered wall. Besi put her arms round the captain’s neck.
After they whispered to each other for some while, he slid a hand inside her furs and her dress. She gasped at the cold of his touch. When she reciprocated, he grunted at the chill of her hand. Their flesh seemed ice and fire alternately, as they worked closer together. Besi noticed with approval that the captain was enjoying himself and in no great hurry. Loving was so easy, she thought, and whispered in his ear, ‘It’s so simple …’ He only burrowed deeper.
When they were united, he held her firmly against the wall. She let her head roll back against the rough stone and gasped his name, so newly learned.
Afterwards, they leaned together against the wall, and Fashnalgid said matter-of-factly, ‘It was good. Are you happy with your master?’
‘Why ask me that?’
‘I hope one day to make something of myself. Maybe I could buy you, once this present trouble’s over.’
She snuggled against