However, if Debra would go to California and write the screenplay, Bobby
Dugan felt sure he could roll it all into a quartermillion-dollar
package. He wanted her to weigh the fact that even established
novelists were seldom asked to write their own screenplays- this was an
offer not to be lightly spurned, and he urged Debra to accept.
Who needs people? Debra laughed it away quickly, too quickly, and David
caught the wistful expression before she turned her head away and asked
brighty, Have you got any of that champagne left, Morgan? I think we
can celebrate, don't you?
The way you're going, Morgan, I'd best lay in a store of the stuff, he
replied, and went to the gas refrigerator.
It foamed to the rim of the glass as he poured the wine, and before it
subsided and he had carried the glass to her, he had made his decision.
Let's take his advice seriously, and think about you going to Hollywood,
he said, and put the glass in her hand.
What's to think about? she asked. This is where we belong. 'No, let's
wait a while before replying What do you mean? She lowered the glass
without tasting the wine.
We will wait until, let's say, until after we have seen the Brig in Cape
Town. Why? She looked puzzled. Why should it be different then?
No reason. It's just that it is an important decision the choice of
time is arbitrary, however. Beseder! she agreed readily, and raised
the glass to toast him. I love you. I love you, he said, and as he
drank he was glad that she had so many roads to choose from.
The Brig's arrangements allowed them three more weeks before the
rendezvous in Cape Town, and David drew upon each hour to the full,
anticipating his chances of expulsion from their private Eden.
They were happy days and it seemed that nature had conspired to give
them of her best. The goodrains fell steadily, always beginning in the
afternoon after a incoming of tall clouds and heavy air filled with
static and the feel of thunder. In the sunset the lightning played and
flickered across the gilt cloud banks, turned by the angry sun to the
colour of burnished bronze and virgins blushes. Then in the darkness as
they lay entwined, the thunder struck like a hammer blow and the
lightning etched the window beyond the bed to a square of blinding white
light, and the rain came teeming down with the sound of wild fire and
running hooves. With David beside her, Debra was unafraid.
In the morning it was bright and cool, the trees washed sparkling clean
so that the leaves glinted in the early sun and the earth was dark with
water and spangled with standing pools.
The rains brought life and excitement to the wild things, and each day
held its small discoveries -unexpected visitations, and strange
occurrences.
The fish eagles moved their two chicks from the great shaggy nest in the
mhobahoba at the head of the pools and taught them to perch out on the
bare limb that supported it. They sat there day after day, seeming to
gather their courage. The parent birds were frenetic in their
ministrations, grooming their offspring for the great moment of flight.
Then one morning, as he and Debra ate breakfast on the stoop, David
heard the swollen chorus of their chanting cries, harsh with triumph,
and he took Debra's hand and they went down the steps into the open.
David looked up and saw the four dark shapes spread on wide wings
against the clear blue of the sky, and his spirit soared with them in
their moment of achievement.
They flew upwards in great sweeping circles, until they dwindled to
specks and vanished, gone to their autumn grounds upon the Zambezi
River, two thousand miles to the north.
There was, however, one incident during those last days that saddened
and subdued them both. One morning, they walked four miles northwards
beyond the line of hills to a narrow wedge-shaped plain on which stood a
group of towering leadwood trees.
A pair of martial eagles had chosen the tallest leadwood as their mating
ground. The female was a beautiful young bird but the male was past his
prime. They had begun constructing their nest on a high fork, but the
work was interrupted by the intrusion of a lone male eagle, a big young
bird, fierce and proud and acquisitive.
David had noticed him lurking about the borders of the territory,
carefully avoiding overlying the airspace claimed by the breeding pair,
choosing a perch on the hills overlooking the plain and gathering his
confidence for the confrontation he was so clearly planning. The
impending conflict had its particular fascination for David and his
sympathy was with the older bird as he made his warlike show, screeching
defiance from his perch upon the high branches of the leadwood or
weaving his patrols along his borders, turning on his great wings always
within the limits of that which he claimed as his own.
David had decided to walk up to the plain that day, in order to choose a
site for the photographic blind he planned to erect overlooking the nest
site, and also in curiosity as to the outcome of this primeval clash
between the two males.
It seemed more than chance that he had chosen the day when the crisis
was reached.
David and Debra came up through the gap in the hills and paused to sit
on an outcrop of rock overlooking the plain, while they regained their
breath. The battlefield was spread below them.
The old bird was at the nest, a dark hunched shape with white breast and
head set low on the powerful shoulders. David looked for the invader,
sweeping the crests of the hills with his binoculars, but there was no
sign of him. He dropped the binoculars to his chest and he and Debra
talked quietly for a while.
Then suddenly David's attention was attracted by the behaviour of the
old eagle. He launched suddenly into flight, striking upwards on his
great black pinions, and there was an urgency in the way he bored for
height.
His climb brought him close over their heads, so that David could
clearly see the cruel curve of the beak and the ermine black splashes
that decorated the imperial snow of his breast.
He opened the yellow beak and shrieked a harsh challenge, and David
turned quickly in the old fighter pilot's sweep of sky and cloud. He
saw the cunning of it immediately. The younger bird had chosen his
moment and his attack vector with skill beyond his years. He was
towering in the sun, high and clear, a flagrant trespasser, daring the
old eagle to come up at him and David felt his skin crawl in sympathy as
he watched the defender climb slowly on flogging wings.
Quickly, and a little breathlessly, he described it to Debra and she
reached for his hand, her sympathy with the old bird also.
Tell me! 'she commanded.
The young bird sailed calmly in waiting circles, cocking his head to
watch his adversary's approach.
There he goes! David's voice was taut, as the attacker went wing over
and began his stoop.
I can hear him, Debra whispered, and the sound of his wings carried
clearly to them, rustling like a bush fire in dry grass as he dived on
the old bird.
Break left! Go! Go! Go! David found he was calling to the old eagle
as though he were flying wingman for him, and he gripped Debra's hand
until she winced. The old eagle seemed almost to hear him, for he
closed his WIngs and flicked out of the path of the strike, tumbling for
a single turn so that the attacker hissed by him with talons reaching