Unholy Crusade Page 3

  Adam took a deep breath and replied, ‘Could you run to a hundred pounds?’

  His Lordship gave a cheerful laugh. ‘I could, but I think you deserve more than that.’

  To Adam a hundred pounds was an immense sum and he had hardly dared ask for it. His eyes widened with excitement as Ruffan went on:

  ‘But there is a snag about my giving you a lump sum. As you are a minor we’d have to disclose it, and such a gift would be very difficult to explain. I’ve been thinking, though. You are a sensible chap and realise that a good education is the royal road to the trimmings that make life worth while. What do you say to my sending you to an English public school, then a university? No-one would question my doing that, because you’re bright enough to warrant it.’

  Overwhelmed at the new future opened up to him, Adam stammered his thanks.

  ‘We’ll have to play this carefully, though,’ his benefactor resumed. ‘Got to show people I’m taking an interest in you. I tell you what. The guns arrive tomorrow for our first shoot on the Glorious 12th. I’ll take you out with me as an extra loader, and later let you have a crack at the birds yourself.’

  So, during the rest of August, Adam was skilfully established as a youngster of whom His Lordship thought a lot, and early in September no-one at the Castle was greatly surprised when they learned that he was going to send him to school in England.

  When first making the suggestion Ruffan had counted on the fact that his seat, Loudly Hall, was not far from Marlborough. As he was a Governor of that famous school, he should have no difficulty in getting Adam into it; but he had overlooked the fact that his protégé was over-age for entry. However, Teddy Ruffan was not a man to be put off easily and the headmaster was a broad-minded man with a very natural desire to have scholars who promised to do his school credit. In consequence, when he saw the excellent report sent in by Adam’s schoolmaster at Portgower, he was persuaded to take the boy.

  Thus, towards the end of September, happy, excited and preening himself on the splendid new outfit with which His Lordship had provided him, Adam travelled south to become a denizen of an utterly different world from any he had known or dreamed of. But very soon he was to rue the day he had left his native Scotland.

  It was not that his new companions deliberately bullied him, but he was a fish out of water. His background, upbringing and accent were all different from those of his companions and, after he had fought and thoroughly beaten a much older boy who laughed at his accent, he was regarded as dangerous and unpredictable, so was left strictly alone.

  He had been used to loneliness, but not loneliness among a crowd of jostling, laughing boys; so for a time he was miserable. But at least there was one compensation; it threw him back upon his work, and his masters found him to be their star pupil. In addition, Marlborough has not only a truly splendid library; it has been indexed so thoroughly that all the ramifications of any subject can be found with ease. To Adam this proved an abiding joy and he spent most of his spare time there, reading voraciously: at first about the far-flung expeditions of the Norsemen and later about that other, tropical country, of which he still had occasional dreams. While looking through an illustrated History of Early Civilisations he had recognised this to be Mexico. In the library he also discovered Alexandre Dumas and Baroness Orczy and, between serious reading, he devoured their books with delight.

  His visions of Mexico became ever more vivid. He saw it as a land of extraordinary contrasts: snow-capped mountains and rank vegetations only vaguely seen through the steam resulting from a tropical downpour; of architects whose mathematics were so exact that they could safely erect buildings the like of which had never been dreamed of in northern Europe, but which had still not devised the wheel that made many labours so infinitely easier; of a people to whom sunshine brought unbelievable plenty, yet whose hearts were filled with constant fear because it was arrid land, and rain to make the crops grow could be bought only by the sacrifice of young men and virgins to the ferocious gods who, through their priests, ruled the country.

  In spite of its sinister, fanatical and dangerous priesthood, this country of sunshine, music and brown-skinned women held for Adam much more attraction than the bleak, rainswept northern lands with their people’s primitive way of life and their long, dull winters; so he made up his mind that, as soon as he possibly could, he would visit Mexico.

  It was in his second summer at Marlborough that he was quite suddenly pulled out of his lonely, studious life. There had been an epidemic in the school which had struck several members of the cricket First Eleven. The epidemic was over, but its victims were still convalescing and the match of the year was due to be played. Adam was a good bat, but a poor bowler and weak on fielding; so, in spite of his height and strength, he had got no further than doing well in the Third Eleven. But it was batsmen that were needed. The Games Captain took a chance and included Adam in the side.

  He was put in sixth wicket down when already there seemed no hope at all of Marlborough winning the match. Adam stayed the course, knocked up a hundred and five and carried his bat.

  Towards the end of the match the excitement grew intense. Adam’s last hit was a boundary, winning the match for Marlborough by three runs. The watching boys streamed on to the pitch, cheering like mad, seized Adam, hoisted him on their shoulders and carried him in triumph back to the pavilion. The Games Captain wrung his hand and told him then and there that he was capped. From that moment he was looked on as a hero.

  At the beginning of his last year he received another distinction. Like other public schools, Marlborough has its Literary Society, but it differs in that there it is an élite. At most colleges any boy who is interested in books may join and listen to the talks given by well-known writers who are invited down to address the Society; at Marlborough the membership is limited to twelve senior boys, and only they may do so.

  For some time past, Adam had been contributing articles on sport to the school magazine and it had never even occurred to him that he might qualify for this honour. Then, for his own amusement, he wrote three short stories about a Viking. To his surprise and delight, when the next vacancy occurred, he was invited to become a member of the Society. The double crown of his cap for cricket and membership of the literary élite, coupled with his cheerful character and good looks, made him immensely popular and during his last terms no youth could have had a happier life.

  In the holidays, too, he thoroughly enjoyed himself, for Lord Ruffan’s interest in him had continued. When in Scotland he took Adam fishing and shooting with him, and at other times had him to stay at Loudly Hall in Somerset; delighting to show him off to his friends as an example of what a public-school education could do.

  He had changed during his time at Marlborough. His crop of unruly curls had been cut and coaxed into inoffensive waves, Ruffan’s tailor had clothed him suitably and nothing remained of his broad Scottish accent but a pleasant burr. All the rough corners had been rubbed off him and he felt at ease in any company.

  Arrangements had been made for him to go up to Cambridge and, his ambitions having been fired by his membership of the Literary Society, he now hoped to become a professional writer, which would enable him to travel.

  Then, three days after Adam left Marlborough for the last time, Teddy Ruffan had an apoplectic fit and died. Although it was not fully brought home to Adam for some days, for the second time the bottom had dropped out of his world.

  Greatly stricken, Adam attended the funeral of his bluff patron and there, for the first time, met the heir. He was a distant cousin and had nothing whatever in common with his predecessor, who had disliked and ignored him. The new heir was in his fifties, married and with six children. He acidly informed Adam at an interview they had some days later that his late cousin had left his affairs in a scandalous tangle and it was now emerging that he had played ducks and drakes with the family fortune.

  As Adam regarded the narrow, bony face opposite him, with its little, pursed-up m
outh, he did not feel particularly sorry for its owner, but he did feel a sudden uneasiness on his own account, and, as he soon learned, with ample justification.

  It transpired that his late benefactor had left him five hundred pounds in his Will, but had made no provision for the completion of his education. Aunt Flora was to receive the life tenancy of a cottage and a small pension, but the Castle was to be sold; so he was to lose what he had come to regard as his home.

  The new Lord Ruffan went on to say with oily smoothness, ‘On several occasions my cousin refused my pleas to help me with the education of my own children; so I am sure you would not expect me to pay for that of a young man like yourself who is not even a member of the family. It is regrettable that you may have to revise your plans for going up to Cambridge. But you have reached the age when you should have no difficulty in getting a job. I therefore suggest that you should set about finding one without delay.’

  So that was that. The legacy and the little nest-egg that he still had in National Savings Certificates would certainly not see him through three years at Cambridge. The social background he had acquired, as almost one of the jovial Lord Ruffan’s family, had disappeared overnight. The only place that he might in future think of as home was the small cottage to be occupied by his dour Aunt Flora. He must try to get a job, and soon, but he had only the vaguest ideas how to set about it.

  Sadly he packed his belongings and next morning said good-bye to Loudly Hall, where he had spent so many pleasant holidays, and went up to Scotland. Aunt Flora had received a letter from the Ruffan lawyers, but she was not unduly depressed. It seemed quite a possibility that whoever bought the Castle would be glad to reinstate her as housekeeper and she could then make a little extra money by letting the cottage. But Adam knew that with her limited resources there could be no question of her helping him to go through Cambridge.

  Having assessed his qualifications for a job, he felt that he could almost certainly secure an appointment as a junior master in a private school. Then during the holidays he would have the time to write for magazines, and later start a novel; so he wrote to his ex-housemaster at Marlborough, stated his position and asked him to let him have testimonials to support an application for a post.

  The housemaster replied cordially and sympathetically, but, instead of enclosing testimonials, said that he was consulting the Head, as he thought they might find him something better than the sort of job he had in mind.

  Then his lucky star moved into the ascendant once again. He received a letter from the headmaster, who said they had been so concerned about his talents going to waste through not completing his education that they had persuaded the Dean of the University of Southampton to grant him a scholarship.

  With no fees to pay, Teddy Ruffan’s legacy and his own savings would just see him through. In new heart and determined to do well, Adam went south again towards the end of that September, to become an undergraduate.

  His three years at Southampton were uneventful. The students at the University had much more varied backgrounds than had the boys at Marlborough. Some came from rich homes, but a high proportion had to be as careful of their money as Adam; so his limited means placed him at no disadvantage. He soon had a group of pleasant friends, entered into many of the social activities and fully justified his sponsors’ expectations of him by achieving his B.A., and double Firsts in History and English Literature.

  As a university student, his call-up had been deferred, but after graduating he had to do his National Service and went into the Navy. Having completed his initial training he was posted to a minesweeper, where his cheerful willingness soon made him popular with both his mess-mates and officers. It was that he grew his golden beard and was given the nickname of ‘the Viking’ but, although he enjoyed the life, he could not help feeling that he was getting nowhere with his ambitions to make a literary career for himself.

  After a time he was given a course in W/T and became a proficient radio operator; then, for some reason he never discovered, he was transferred to Portsmouth and given a clerical job on the Admiral’s staff. There he found the work easy and in his off-duty hours was able to take full advantage of the excellent recreation provided, including the Saturday-night dances held in the big N.A.A.F.I. hall.

  Since Adam had lost his sisters he had had little to do with girls and had known none intimately. His holidays from school had all been spent in the country, where he had admired a few girls he had chanced to meet, but had had no opportunity to follow up the acquaintance, and at Southampton University he had deliberately avoided the many girls who endeavoured to attract his attention, because he could not afford to take any of them out regularly. In consequence, at twenty-two he was very much shyer than most young men of his age, and it was only with some difficulty that his mates persuaded him to accompany them to his first Saturday-evening dance.

  When he entered the hall his fine ‘Viking’ head towered over those of his companions and, within a few minutes, bright eyes were fixed upon it from all directions. A score of pretty girls began to badger his friends for an introduction and, when he apologetically explained that he would make a poor partner because he had been to very few dances, several girls eagerly volunteered to teach him the latest steps. Among them was Polly.

  She was a curvaceous blonde with a big mouth, rather full, highly-coloured cheeks, a tip-tilted nose and green eyes. Her father owned an ironmongery shop in which she worked, but only for part of the day, as her mother had died some eighteen months before and she had since kept house for her father in the flat above the shop. All this Adam learned during the three dances he had with her and he thought her far more attractive than any of the other girls, so after their third dance, he asked if he might see her home.

  Being as smitten with the handsome young giant as he was with her opulent charms, she readily assented and, ruthlessly cutting her obligation to the fellow who had brought her, suggested that they should slip away at once.

  It was a fine, warm night and they walked through the almost deserted streets hand in hand, happily exchanging first confidences about themselves. In due course, to Adam’s surprise, she turned out of the street into a long, narrow alley between high brick walls with, here and there, wooden gates outside which dustbins stood. She then explained that when the shop was shut she always used the back entrance; then, fifty yards along the alley, she opened a gate and drew him through it.

  The faint moonlight showed him that they were in a backyard, one side of which was stacked with corn-bins, chicken coops and other ironmonger’s stock-in-trade; the other was a flower border and between the two there was a small lawn. No sooner were they inside the gate than Polly put her arms round Adam’s neck, raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. Her warm, moist lips instantly aroused a fire in him that had long been dormant. He responded avidly and for several minutes they clung together.

  When at length, from sheer breathlessness, their kissing ceased, she whispered, ‘It’s early yet, let’s make ourselves comfortable.’ Then, breaking away from him, she walked over to a lean-to shed against the back of the house. There were some deck-chairs, two chintz-covered mattresses and half a dozen cushions in it. Grasping a mattress, she pulled it out. He took the other and they laid them side by side on the grass. As she began to arrange the cushions, he looked up a shade nervously at the blank, dark windows of the house and murmured:

  ‘What about your old man? Say he hears us and looks out?’

  She gave a low laugh. ‘Don’t worry, ducks, his room’s at the front. Anyhow, he’s as deaf as a post and we have no one sleeping in. The char only comes in the mornings.’

  During the hour that followed they lay closely embraced, exchanging fervid caresses in which Polly unashamedly took the lead. Adam had always supposed that nice girls gave themselves only when married or reluctantly seduced after most intense persuasion by their lovers; so Polly’s willingness was a revelation to him. But his mind was in such a turmoil that he
put aside all scruples and met her advances with equal ardour.

  It was all over very quickly and afterwards she said, ‘I … I’m afraid I excited you too much. Or … or could it be that you’ve never done it before?’

  ‘That’s right,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry if I disappointed you.’

  ‘No.’ She gave him a swift kiss. ‘I’m not worrying about that, because I’ve really fallen for you. But you’re such a handsome chap and you must have known lots of girls who would have been willing.’

  Ashamed to tell her the truth, he murmured, ‘Well, yes, but not one like you. Not one I liked enough. And how about you?’

  She sighed with pleasure at the compliment. ‘I feel flattered, then. About me—well, I was seduced when I was seventeen. It wasn’t very nice. Since then there have been two fellows. I was in love with both of them. I wouldn’t go with anyone except a steady that I really cared about. But I fell for you right away and … and I’ll be your girl if you want me.’

  ‘Want you!’ he repeated, seizing her in his arms again. ‘Of course I do! I think you’re wonderful … wonderful. And from now on I’m all yours.’

  Adam’s youthful virility swiftly reasserting itself, shortly afterwards they again gave free rein to their passions, with much greater satisfaction to both parties. A quarter of an hour later they put away the mattresses and cushions, agreed that he was to take her to a movie the following afternoon and, after further prolonged embraces, parted. Adam walked back to barracks on air, feeling as good as if he had suddenly become a millionaire.