“Of course.”
“Then I’ll go back to my house; my husband will be there waiting for me, and probably a bit worried about the time.”
“By all means,” said Judith, “by all means.”
They said good-night and separated, and Judith was all at once glad to be alone. She walked, deep in thought, among the dark trees, slowing her pace to a saunter, while one half of her mind enjoyed the deep odours of the night, the smell of blossom. The sky was dark, but with a brilliant velvety darkness and the stars shone brightly. She turned off the track for a moment and sat down at the foot of a tree to savour it all for a few moments before she surrendered to sleep. She had been there for a few seconds only when she heard footsteps upon the pathway to her right and the sound of low voices. A man and a woman were approaching, in silhouette, with the feeble light behind them. Vaguely she recognized the outline of a man who looked something like Aaron; with him was a tall thin figure walking with a deliberate meditative slowness, dressed in some formless fashion which suggested a shawl, a mantilla or a cape. Yes, the man was Aaron. As they approached she heard him say in a sharp authoritative tone: “Pete, you listen to me and stop throwing your weight about. You may run the place as you please, but you are not running me.”
“I’m not trying to,” said the deep hoarse voice which Judith recognized as belonging to the woman called Peterson. “Not at all. But you are not to take any decisions inside the perimeter without consulting me or I shall have the committee on your neck. Is that clear?”
Aaron sighed with exasperation. “I am responsible,” he said angrily, “for the defence of this valley. My decisions are going to be respected and my orders carried out.”
“Not unless they meet with the approval of the committee.”
“Damn the committee.”
“I would be heartily glad to. But I can’t.”
Aaron stopped and took her roughly by the arm. “Listen, Pete,” he said angrily, “if we get this new stuff we shall have to improve the instruction for the settlement. This is automatic stuff, not bolt-action rifles and rusty muzzle-loaders. And everything will depend on it. I have made up my mind to find an extra hour a day for it. I know that everyone is dead-beat in the evening, but what else is to be done? We must turn them into efficient francs-tireurs as soon as possible. What’s more, I propose to start tomorrow if the stuff arrives.”
“I shall tell the committee. You will have my answer tomorrow.”
“Stop crossing me, Pete.”
“You stop crossing me, Aaron. I know how serious your military considerations are, but so are the crops. We must find a way round both difficulties. But you are not ordering me around, do you see? Not as long as I’m organizing secretary here.”
He bit his lip. They glared at each other like angry dogs. “Look,” he said at last, “if we get the stuff, I propose to start tomorrow night with a general demonstration… if the committee agrees.”
“That’s better,” she said grimly.
“And if it doesn’t, I shall know who to blame and who is responsible — and I shan’t forget it, Pete. On my word.”
“Good-night,” she said gruffly, and turned on her heel. Aaron stood in perplexity, looking after the diminishing figure. Then he shook his head and made off in another direction, banging his leg with a switch.
Judith was once more alone. She moved circumspectly across the path now towards the little hut from which a chorus of healthy snores resounded. The door of her room was ajar. She entered in darkness and undressed quietly before slipping into the hard but not uncomfortable bed. She turned on her side, put one arm under her head and was instantly asleep — a deeper, dreamless sleep this time which carried with it a hint of reassurance and even of a fugitive contentment. In her mind she heard the ripple of the Jordan river and felt its cold waters sliding across her breasts and flanks.
4. Pete
She awoke with a start, and found herself gazing into a pair of enormous black eyes, set deeply under arched brows in the long pointed features of an ancient Greek queen, or a witch. They were eyes with a deep sadness in them and yet at the same time with a hint of something like mischief. The face was oval, the forehead high, the lips thin and aristocratic. It was so close to her own that she had the sudden illusion that it was magnified to twice its normal size, as if seen through a lens. The figure was wearing not a mantilla but a dark shawl which was drawn up over her head in the fashion of a peasant-woman. The dark hair was liberally streaked with grey, though it was thick and curly. It was a head of striking beauty, with its long slender nose aimed justly to compensate for the hardness of the chiselled lips. The hands too, which had been softly touching the girl’s forehead in the darkness, were resolute and strong, and ringless. All this Judith took in with a single glance. It was clearly Miss Peterson, and she was kneeling beside the bed with a small candle alight in a saucer. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither pair of eyes so much as blinking. Miss Peterson’s, enormous and the colour almost of tar, were focussed on Judith with concentration and a certain air of greedy assessment. But, seeing herself observed now, she allowed a smile to overflow into them though her lips did not copy it. She put her finger to her lips and said, “Sorry I missed you.” Even her low whisper sounded hoarse and strong and peasant-like. Judith propped herself up and said:
“What is my father’s photograph doing on your desk?”
“Ah, you noticed it?”
“Yes.”
Miss Peterson depressed her cheeks in a smile which hovered on the edge of mischief, before turning to a kind of sadness. She said: “I was his mistress for many years. You could have been my child. That is why I was curious to see you. I only once caught a glimpse of you when you were small.”
“I heard he was in love with a woman called Peter.”
“I am Peter.”
“But she went away. I don’t know why.”
“There were several reasons. It was for his sake…
“But, Miss Peterson…
“Call me Pete if you wish; everyone does.”
“Pete. And you brought me here?”
“Well, not me entirely. I knew they were going to try and get you out and I asked for you here; but I don’t expect you’ll stay long. I imagine that Professor Liebling will want you in Jerusalem.”
“The physicist?”
“Yes — he arranged it all. It has something to do with your father’s work.”
“I see!” Judith lifted her head from the pillow.
Pete stood up now, very thin and tall; even in the rosy candlelight her pallor was striking, giving her a witch-like cast. She whispered: “I’ll go now and get some sleep. Good-night, Judith.” As she turned to go, Judith put out her arm and drew her face down towards her own. They kissed briefly and smiled. “See you in the morning.”
5. The Kibbutz
Next day dawned fine and brilliant, and Judith made her way to the gaunt dining-room for her breakfast, walking rapturously through the green groves of fruit-trees on grass made springy and verdant by frequent watering. Everywhere there were sprinklers at work, spouting a fine hazy parabola of water. She began to accustom herself to the geography of the place, and found her way back to Miss Peterson’s office without much trouble. Here everything was bustle and activity. A couple of typewriters chattered; everywhere lay files and rosters and maps in coloured chalk overscribbled with engineers’ mathematical computations. Pete greeted her and detached herself from the melée after giving a few orders. “You had better come on deck with me,” she said. “From there you will see the whole layout of the settlement as well as most of the others.” The “deck” turned out to be the flat roof of the tower which they climbed by a wooden staircase. Emerging into the brilliant sunshine, Judith saw the whole valley laid out around them, narrowing and edging into a slot as it entered the single great defile in the mountains, out of which the river flowed, to broaden immediately into a wide, smoothly running stream which watered the broad pastures and meadows on either side. “In fact,” said Pete, “our valley sticks out like a very sore thumb into enemy territory. It’s roughly a triangle contained between these two mountain ranges — Lebanon this one, and Syria that.”