‘I’m here for Leo’s sake,’ Tom replied. ‘I think she needs a friend.’
‘I should have thought you would just want to get away from her, after the way she’s behaved.’
‘I don’t see that she has behaved badly at all. And I’m certainly not going to throw her over after I chased halfway across Europe to find her – at your request, if you remember.’
‘Are you still in love with her?’
Tom looked at him in silence. It seemed neither the truth nor a lie would serve him at this juncture. In the end he said, ‘You know I am extremely fond of both of you. It distresses me that there is this rift between you, and I certainly have no intention of walking out on either of you.’
Ralph turned to look at him, then came across the room and laid a hand on his shoulder. To his amazement, Tom saw a tear at the corner of his eye. ‘You’re a loyal fellow, Tom, and I’ve treated you badly. I should be thanking you.’ He held out his free hand. ‘Will you accept my apology?’
Tom took the offered hand and resisted the temptation to pull him closer and put his arms round him. ‘Yes, on one condition. You must make it up with Leo, too. She really is a wonderful girl, you know.’
When Ralph had gone Tom sat down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. He was trembling. Once, back in Athens, he had thought he was free of the enchantment that had held him in its sway for so long; but the moment Ralph had appeared in Malkovic’s tent he had understood that he could never release himself. When Ralph had turned on him and accused him of betraying his trust it had felt as if a sharp blade had severed some essential internal ligament that held his personality together. Since that day, he had existed as two separate individuals; one who went about his duties as Leo’s friend and escort and made conversation and even friendships among the young Serbian officers he met; the other a pathetic, shivering creature shut away to starve in darkness. He had begun to hope that one day, deprived of light and nourishment, it would die and leave him with the outer shell that carried on so painlessly with the business of living. But the prison door had been opened and the creature had seized upon the crumbs of comfort offered and now he would never be free of its demands.
Leo never knew what had passed between the two men, but two days later came news that put the whole matter out of her mind. Adrianople had surrendered at last. The siege was over and the troops were coming home.
Twenty-One
Leo lived on tenterhooks for the next week. Then she received a note from Adriana telling her that Sasha was home but had decided to spend some time relaxing on the family estate before re-entering Belgrade society. There was a promise that she would be invited out to the estate to meet him, but she was not surprised when no invitation arrived. A month passed until one night at a reception, when she was languidly fending off the attentions of one of her suitors, which were becoming more pressing as the days passed, she looked across the room and saw him being greeted by their hostess. The shock was so great that she froze in mid-sentence and her companion had to say her name twice before she responded. In panic she rose to her feet, trying to think of an excuse to leave the room; then she sat down again, aware that she was more likely to attract his attention by moving. He was with his family and his elder sister’s husband and was immediately surrounded by well-wishers and people wanting to claim acquaintance with one of the heroes of the campaign and Leo was almost sure he had not seen her. Ralph, however, had seen him and came over.
Brusquely excusing himself to her cavalier, who withdrew with bad grace, he grabbed Leo’s wrist. ‘Come on, we’re going home.’
‘Why?’ she asked, pretending innocence.
‘That man is here! I won’t have you meeting him, after the way he behaved last time.’
That was enough to strengthen Leo’s resolve. ‘You were the one who behaved badly,’ she told him. ‘Anyway, I have no intention of going home. I’m not going to give people the impression that I am ashamed to meet him. That really would be a cause for gossip.’
Ralph glared at her for a moment longer and must have seen in her eyes that she meant what she said and any attempt to remove her would result in a public fracas. Then he turned and stalked away. Leo drew a deep breath and stood up, her chin held high. Let Malkovic see what had been hidden under the disguise of a scruffy boy! She was wearing a dress of onyx-green silk, with a low-cut, square neck decorated with a deep band of silver embroidery. Since leaving the privations of Adrianople she had put on a little weight and for the first time had no reason to feel ashamed of her décolletage
.
Her hair had begun to grow, but in addition she had had the hank of hair she had cut off at Chataldzha made up into a chignon. As a final touch she wore a necklace of moonstones, from which hung a single splendid emerald. Ralph, ashamed to see his sister without jewels among the glittering beau monde of Belgrade, had sent to England and instructed his bank to send out her grandmother’s jewellery by special courier. Most of it was hopelessly old-fashioned but this one item, Leo knew, really suited her. Tom had told her earlier that evening that she looked beautiful, and these days when Tom paid her a compliment she believed it. Abandoning her air of indifference, she turned to her suitors and gave them a smile that rocked them back on their heels.
As the evening progressed, she watched Sasha moving round the room, shaking hands, bowing, smiling, beset as he was by admirers but always gravely self-possessed; never, as she had predicted to Adriana, making an effort to charm. She saw him glance her way once or twice but he made no effort to approach her and she was careful to keep her distance. But at length the effort of trying to appear gay and insouciant became too much and she sought out Tom, who had retreated to the billiard room with some of the men.
‘I’m feeling tired, Tom. Would you mind taking me home?’
‘Of course not. Get your cloak. I’ll wait for you in the hall.’
Leo went upstairs to the room that had been set aside for ladies to remove their cloaks and prink themselves, before making their entrance. She picked up her cloak, glanced at herself in the mirror and went to the door, to find Sasha Malkovic waiting in the corridor.
For a moment neither of them spoke, while he looked her up and down with the familiar sardonic smile. Then he said, ‘So, the lion cub is actually a lioness.’
‘More deadly than the male, if we are to believe Mr Kipling,’ she replied, determined to play him at his own game.
He bent his head in acknowledgement of the riposte. ‘At any rate, not a domestic cat. I confess I am a little at a loss. I expected that skinny youth I knew at Adrianople to metamorphose into a young girl. But you . . . are a woman.’
‘I lied about my age,’ she said.
‘I realized that. But I thought you were younger, not older.’ He came a few steps closer and she saw that his face had lost some of the fine-drawn, hollow-cheeked appearance that she remembered. He said, ‘When I saw you across the room this evening it was some time before I could believe the evidence of my eyes.’
Leo felt as if a hand was at her throat, restricting her breathing. ‘I hope you are not disappointed.’
‘On the contrary,’ he said, ‘I am vastly relieved.’
‘Relieved? Why?’
From below they heard women’s voices approaching, then Tom’s. ‘Excuse me, ladies, would you see if Miss Malham Brown is nearly ready? I am waiting for her.’
‘I must go,’ she said, and he stepped back to allow her to pass. She hesitated a moment. ‘I expect we shall meet again, now you are here in Belgrade?’
‘Inevitably,’ he responded. Then, as she passed him, he added, ‘I missed you after you had gone.’
The two ladies reached the top of the stairs and one said, ‘Ah, here she is! Your escort is getting impatient, my dear.’
‘Thank you. I am ready now,’ Leo said. She looked behind her once and caught his eyes, then she ran down the stairs to where Tom was waiting.
It was three days before she encountered Sasha again. This time it was at a ball. As soon as she arrived, on Tom’s arm, she was besieged as usual by young men wanting to put their names down for a dance. She saw him on the far side of the room, but he made no effort to approach her and her dance card was filling up fast. She saved the last dance before the supper interval, pretending that she had promised it to Tom, but by the time the orchestra struck up the first waltz it was still blank and she feared it would remain so. Tom, always mindful of his obligations although he hated dancing, led her onto the floor and she made up her mind to give the impression that she was completely carefree. Tonight she was wearing midnight blue velvet, with her grandmother’s sapphire earrings, and she knew Sasha was watching her. She watched him, too, and saw that he danced with the same poise and mastery as he rode.
She had danced three dances before she saw him crossing the floor towards her. He bowed and wished her good evening and she responded in the same manner.
‘I suppose it is too much to hope that you might have a dance left for me,’ he said.
For a moment she had an impulse to tell him that his assumption was correct. Instead she said, ‘I was saving the supper dance for Tom Devenish, but I am sure he would be happy to retire in your favour.’
‘Then I shall be very much obliged to him,’ he replied. The orchestra struck up the next dance and he made a gesture of apology. ‘I am engaged for this one, but I shall return to claim you for the supper dance.’
When the time came and he took her hand to lead her onto the floor she was aware that they were the focus of all eyes. The titillating gossip about their previous relationship had spread all through the close-knit group that made up Belgrade society and she could appreciate why he had hesitated at first to be seen with her. But as soon as they reached the dance floor and he took her in his arms she forgot the rest of the world. His right hand was firm in the small of her back while his left held hers with a gentle pressure and as he whirled her into the waltz she felt as if her feet flew across the floor without touching it.
The Viennese waltz requires stamina and leaves little breath for conversation, but when the dance ended he gave her his arm and took her into the room where the supper was laid out. A sumptuous buffet had been prepared. Hams glistened under the candlelight and barons of beef glowed pink and succulent, while pride of place was occupied by a whole roasted piglet. There were mountains of pastries, whose origin testified to Serbia as a place where two great empires met; baklava dripping with honey sat next to rich, dark sachertorte and dishes of sweetmeats included the traditional
slatko
, a fruit preserve made from plums and cherries.
As they filled their plates he said, ‘Next week we are celebrating my family’s slava day. If I send you an invitation, will you come?’
‘A slava day?’ Leo said. ‘What is that?’
‘Every family in Serbia has one. It celebrates a momentous occasion in the extended family’s history – usually their conversion to Christianity.’
‘And how do you celebrate?’
‘We entertain our friends and neighbours to a feast. And there will be musicians, dancing, that sort of thing. Will you come?’
‘I should like that very much.’ She thought a moment and added, ‘It might be best if you invited Ralph and Tom as well. Otherwise I may not be able to accept.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I will ask Adriana to send you all invitations.’
The Malkovic estate was an hour’s drive outside Belgrade and Sasha sent a car to pick them up. It was May, and for the first time Leo saw the full beauty of the Serbian countryside. They drove through meadows where sleek cattle and horses grazed. Orchards of plum and cherry shed their blossom on the road as they approached the rambling house with its stables and outbuildings. Tables had been set out in a courtyard, shaded by trellises supporting more vines, and Sasha stood at the entrance with his mother, the countess, and his sisters to receive their guests. He had changed out of his uniform and wore the traditional loose white tunic, caught in with a belt of tooled leather, over baggy black breeches, and Leo thought she had never seen him looking so relaxed.
While they ate spit-roasted lamb and spicy goulash, red with paprika, a man played the gusla and began one of the interminable chants that took Leo back to many a night around the campfire at Adrianople.
After it had gone on for some time Ralph leaned across to her and hissed, ‘How long is this caterwauling going on?’
‘Ssh!’ she reproved him. ‘He is telling the family history back from the year dot. It is terribly important to them.’
When the meal was over and the song was finished a flute and a violin struck up and Sasha rose and stepped out into the clear space in the centre of the tables. He stretched out his arms and immediately his brother-in-law came to his side, laying an arm across his shoulders. Another male relative joined in on his other side and he was followed by other men of the family and brother officers until the circle was complete and they began to trace the steps of the ‘kolo’. This way and that the circle rotated, the steps growing faster and more intricate but never losing the sense of solemn ritual. The kolo, Leo had learned, was never light-hearted. However fast the dancers moved, they never leapt or skipped but kept their feet firmly on the ground, as if affirming their oneness with their native soil.
After the dancing the guests dispersed around the grounds of the estate, strolling in small groups in the May sunshine. Adriana tucked her arm through Leo’s, saying, ‘Come, I want to show you the garden.’
They wandered past formal beds, the air heavy with the scent of wallflowers, along pleached alleys of fruit trees, until they came to an arbour with a rustic seat shaded by honeysuckle and rambling rose. And there, a few yards away, was Sasha, chatting casually to two elderly ladies. Seeing them, he made his excuses to the ladies, who wandered away to rejoin the rest, and came over.