Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [82]
“Ease my pain.”
The passion of Katesh took place that summer and, when Nooma returned to supervise the hauling of the sarsens, the autumn that followed it.
She came to know every feature of the riverman’s body, became obsessed by it.
Sometimes her fear of the gods, and of her husband if he found out, caused her to tremble. But then the memory of her lover’s touch, the shape of the back of his neck as he laughed, his soft eyes and gentle voice, obliterated everything else. She longed to have his child, to flee with him over the sea; but all this she knew was impossible: she would only steal a dangerous and forbidden passion during the dark days and nights of Krona’s rage at Sarum.
And the danger was very great.
“Krona’s spies are everywhere,” she would say. “If we are seen and reported to the priests . . .”
“I am careful,” Tark assured her. “We shall not be seen.”
For under the laws of Sarum, if a husband could prove to the priests that his wife had lain with another man, she was sacrificed to the gods, while the other man was liable to pay the cuckolded husband a heavy fine.
When she thought of this, Katesh shook her head in terror and moaned to herself:
“Why did the gods not give me another husband?”
Tark was so different from the little mason. Sometimes he would lean back, the silky black hairs on his chest catching the light from the taper, stretch all his limbs like a cat, and she would mount him with a little gasp of joy while he slowly smiled; then she would tell him to be still while she rhythmically moved and stretched herself, arching back, upon his taut body. But above all, she loved simply to hold him in her arms, glancing from time to time into his soft, sleepy eyes, and cradling the powerful head that relaxed, when he slept, so that it often seemed to her like that of a child.
Unlike Nooma, Tark was a skilful lover, who took his time. He was so gentle, she thought, feeling her, teasing her, encouraging her to come again and again.
When the mason came home, she did her best to appear pleased to see him. She submitted to his lovemaking and tried to make him happy, as before.
She was sometimes almost overcome with guilt at what she had done with Tark, and again and again promised herself that it would stop. But each time that Nooma departed, and she saw the riverman, her resolve broke down once more.
It was in early winter that she made the terrible discovery that she might be pregnant.
Nooma had been away for a month. Now the gods would punish her!
“He will discover!” she cried. And she wept bitterly for the pain she would cause the worthy mason who had given her, in his clumsy, well-meaning way, nothing but kindness.
“He will give me to the priests,” she wailed. She deserved such a fate, she knew, but it was terrible to think of it.
Then Tark told her what she must do.
The next day, Nooma was surprised when his friend came striding across the ridges to where the gangs of men were hauling the sarsens; and still more surprised when Tark took him to one side.
“Let me supervise the labourers,” he said. “The work at the henge is being badly done. Go there at once and supervise it or the priests will begin to complain.”
Grateful for the advice, Nooma set off at once and when he got to the henge, although he could see no signs of bad work that would have caused immediate complaint, he noticed a number of small mistakes the masons were making and corrected them at once.
“That Tark is more of a perfectionist than I,” he chuckled to himself.
He was glad that he had come back. For when he reached his home, an extraordinary change had come over Katesh.
He was completely unprepared for the reception that awaited him. When he first arrived, she prepared food for him as usual while he sat by the fire in the doorway of the hut and played with his son. But while he ate, he noticed her looking at him in a way that was new; and that