CAESAR'S CAMP

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 127, 31 May 1937, Page 17

CAESAR'S CAMP

SHORT STORY

I LOOKED at the morning paper again. It -wasn't a very big paragraph, but somehow it had caught my eye at once. "Peer's Daughter Killed "The Bagshot road last night was the scene of a mysterious fatal car crash, in which four people were killed. "A large ealoon car was being driven in the direction of London by Lady Diana Marne, who ',vas accompanied by three friend*. "By some means the car overturned near Criirthorne, Berkshire, and caught fire. The efforts of other iate travellers on the road provea unavailing. "Lady Diana was the youngest daughter of Lord Perrymore, who is at present travelling on the' Continent." It was rather remarkable, you know, because I had been expecting Lady Diana to die. Not that I knew her at all or was interested in her, or anything like that. It was a ease of an unusual combination of circumstances. Three weeks before I had been to Crinthorne, in Berkshire, for a holiday. Crinthorne is a typical Berkshire village —just a cluster of houses, a garage, a pub and a church gathered together at

the junction of four roads. The beer is good, the pine-laden air better and the barmaid at the "Running Horse" best of all. We got on rather well together, the barmaid and I. She said her name was Morgiana. I asked her why, and she said she didn't know except perhaps she had Romany blood in. her veins, which was obvious anyway. • » • • One evening I sat in the bar watching the neat row of pewter tankards winking at me as the massive oil lamp swung to and fro from the ceiling. Morgiana had an evening paper draped over the bar, scanning it idly. "The hounds are coming over to-mor-row morning," she said. "It says here that they're meeting near Big Wood down on the Bagshot Road." "Good," I said. "I think I shall get up early and have a look at them. I've never seen the hounds yet." Morgiana was behaving most remarkably. She slammed her fist down on the bar. "You're not to go," she said. "It is not good. I like foxes. Why should they chase them ?— especially the little cubs —they can't run so fast, you see. Have you ever seen the hunt in full cry? Xo? It is a terrible thing. "I know all about foxes," she 6aid in her almost childlike way. "I play with them sometimes. There's one I found in a trap, caught by his brush. I let him out, but he didn't run away. I call him Caesar. Mother's man (she always called her mother's second husband 'Mother's man'), he goes out at night sometimes and covers up the foxes' earths. "I know where Caesar's is, and I go out afterwards, and if it is covered up I have to uncover it so that Caesar can get back. It's terribly frighteningout there in the wood at* night some" times." I don't quite know how it was I managed to over-sleep next morning when I particularly wanted to be abroad early. I set off clown the Bagshot Road to Big Wood without any breakfast, but, of course it was too late. A stolid old woodcutter in the vicinity said the hunt had been and gone. They had apparently raised a fox and set off in full cry across Drinley way. I went back to Crinthorne for breakfast, kicked my heels till opening time, and then went down to the "Running Horse." Morgiana was there. "Did you see the hunt?" she asked. "No," I replied savagely. "I was daft enough to over-sleep." Morgiana looked up. I hadn't noticed her eyes before. They were flaming with hate—there is no other description for them: —so much so, indeed, that I instinctively backed away a step. "They're after Caesar," she said, quietly, but with unspeakable venom. "Don't be silly," was my somewhat fatuous remark. "How can you possibly know 1" "They're after Caesar," she said again. "You'll see."

Nearly four hours had passed eince the hunt that morning. Apart from wondering a little at Morgiana's remark I gave the matter little more thought. Then, about half an hour later, old George Thrumble buret into the fourale bar. "The 'unt's a-coming down the road," he declared with some eigne of excitement, "and a line sight they be, to be Mire. Ibe thinking they bea-commg

—By N. F. C. AUBURY.

here, Missy," he added to Morgiana. "Yc'd better brush yer hair, for there be some mighty tine-looking gentlemen among 'em." Morgiana did nothing. She said nothing. Only the indescribable li™ht ill her eyes, and the heaving of her breast betrayed her -emotions. I sauntered to the inn door, to take a look at the approaching company. There seemed to be five men and one woman. They w T ere moving down the road slowly on their sweating horses. The hounds, too, were wonderfully •juiet, with their tongues lolling out. Evidently it had been a long chase. At the "Running Horse" the company dismounted. A groom took charge of the horses. As the party passed into the saloon I noticed for the first time the twin streaks of blood on the girl's face. A round of drinks was served. One of the men lifted his glass. "Congratulations, v Diana." he said. ' First time out, and first at the kill— not-bad." Diana's hand went to the hardening fox blood on her face. "Thanks," she said, "but I'm not at all sure that I like this 'blooding' business. It's going to be very uncomfortable before long."

There was some laughter, and another man chimed in, "Never mind." he said. "You'll get used to yt, and you've got a line brush, anyway—quite *» curio, I should say." • • . • • For the first time I noticed the fox brush which dangled from Diana's left hand. She lifted it now, and stroked it. It was a fine brush, but the last six inches or so were bent most grotesquely. I knew at once whose brush it was. I looked for Morgiana. She, too, had seen the brush. She was standing up straight in one corner of the bar. Her head was flung back. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were moving rapidly, but silently. Where her hands gripped the dispense on her emotion the knuckles showed white through the smooth, brown skin. Presently the hunting crowd left. Morgiana came quietly out of her I corner. For a long time she went on gazing through the now closed door. I felt I just had to say something. "You were ripht, Morgiana." I murmured softly, "and I'm sorry." I don't believe Morgiana heard me at all. She just went on looking straight ahead. Then she began to rock herself slowly backwards and forwards. I thought of Caesar as she bared her fine white teeth. "The curse of my people is upon her." she said, and the fury in her voice was quiet and terrible. And the curse fell that dark October night—just a stone's throw away from Caesar's camp.