“I am sure he understood. He knew that you were there, that you cared enough to try to save him. He knew what your father did and that he owed his life to that.”
“But to be sent away … to that place … not knowing what would happen to him when he arrived …”
“Remember, he had been expecting the hangman’s noose. Anything would seem good after that. Life is sweet and he had not lost his. He would always survive, and he will always be grateful.”
“How cruel life was to him … just because he happened to be there …”
“He saved Leah. I think I should have been the one to kill that rogue if Jake hadn’t.”
“If he ever comes back he will find you,” I said. “When he does will you please tell him that I had no hand whatsoever in his capture. I rode over to tell him that they were looking for him. My plan was to help him. I had no idea that they were there … right behind me.”
“I’ll tell him but he knows already.”
“I think of it often and I hope and pray that life is not unbearable wherever he is.”
“He will come through whatever happens to him.”
“You are sure of that?”
“My daughter is and she is the one who sees beyond what ordinary people see.”
“And you are all right in your camp?”
“Very comfortable, thank you. Your father has been good to us.”
“He remembers too and wishes he could have done more at the trial.”
“He has given us permission to stay for a few weeks, but we shall be moving on shortly.”
“To the West Country, I believe. Your daughter told me. Will you remind her that we shall expect her tomorrow afternoon?”
I rode on.
When I told Amaryllis that Leah was coming over to read our palms, she was intrigued. Who does not like having one’s fortune told? Even the men do, I think, though they would probably deny it.
However, there was no doubt of Amaryllis’ interest.
The next day Jeanne came to the house with some embroidery she had done for my mother. To my surprise Tamarisk came with her. She wanted to see the puppies which had been born to one of the Labradors; and as Amaryllis and I were meeting Leah one of the maids was asked to take her to the kennels.
Amaryllis and I were in the garden when Leah arrived. She wore a red skirt with a simple white blouse; her hair was piled high to make a crown about her head and there were gold coloured rings in her ears. About her waist was a thick leather belt. She looked quite regal. “The queen of the gypsies,” I said to Amaryllis as we saw her approaching.
I said: “We are going to find a sheltered spot in the garden because if the servants discover that you are telling fortunes they won’t give you any peace.”
“I like only to tell when I have something to tell,” she replied.
We walked across the grass to the summer house.
“Let’s go in here,” said Amaryllis.
“You may well have nothing to tell us,” I said.
“I am sure there will be something.”
“And for me?” asked Amaryllis.
“We shall see. There is serenity all about you. It is the best. It makes for happiness … but happiness often means that there is not much to tell.”
We seated ourselves on the chairs in the summer house. There was a small white topped table there. As Leah sat down I noticed that her belt had a sheath attached to it. She was carrying a knife. I remembered what her father had said about her taking care to protect herself. The knife was such a startling contrast to her gentle demeanour. It was very understandable, I thought. If what had happened to her had happened to me, I should want to carry a knife in my belt.
First she turned to Amaryllis and took her palm. They made a charming picture—their heads close—one so fair, one so dark. Two of the most beautiful women I had ever seen—and so different. Amaryllis so open, so innocent in a way; Leah dark, brooding, her eyes full of secret knowledge—and wearing a belt with a knife in it!
“I see happiness,” she said. “Yes, I felt it immediately. You walk through life calmly, as the young do. You are young in heart and that is a good thing to be. There are dangers all around you … below you … above you … but you walk straight through and you look neither up nor down, and because you see no evil, evil cannot harm you.”
“It sounds a little dull,” said Amaryllis. “I should like to know what all these dangers are.”
Leah shook her head. “This is the best way. You are a lucky lady. That much I can tell you.”
Amaryllis looked faintly disappointed but Leah could say no more.
Then she turned to me. I held out my palm and she took it.
“Oh yes …” She touched my hand lightly and looked up at me. Her dark eyes seemed to bore right through me and I felt my secret thoughts were revealed to her, my petty jealousies and vanities, my less than admirable nature.
She said: “You will be much sought after and there will be a choice to be made. So much will depend on that choice.”
“Can’t you see what I should do?”
She answered: “There is always free will. There are divided paths. It is for you to decide. If you take one you must beware.”
“How shall I know which is the dangerous path?”
She paused and bit her lip. “You are strong in your will. Whatever happens to you will be your choice. You can come through. But you must be wary. All about you I see forces … forces of evil.”
“What sort of evil?”
She shook her head. “I saw this … and I wanted to tell you. You must be careful. Do not act rashly. Be careful.”
“How can I when I don’t know of what to be careful?”
“Take care in all your actions. The time of choice will come, depend on that. You go one way and the evil will not be there. You take one path and then … it is there.”
“What sort of evil? Death?”
She did not answer.
“So it is death,” I insisted.
“It is not clear. Death could be there … Not yours. A death. That is all I can say.”
“And you saw all this when you met me. You wanted to come and warn me.”
“I did not know what I should find. I never know. But I had the strong feeling that I wanted to warn you.”
She released my hand and looked at me helplessly; and at that moment the door of the summer house opened. I looked towards it in dismay. She had shaken me a little with her warning and I wanted to hear more.
It was Tamarisk who stood there. She was dressed in a red dress with a light navy blue cloak. The combination was beautiful. Jeanne made most of her clothes and the colours always blended delightfully.
“What do you want, Tamarisk?” I asked.
“To see you,” she replied. “What you are doing?” She stared at Leah. “You’re the gypsy,” she added.
“Yes, I am.”
“I know about you. Jenny and Mab told me.”
“They told you?” I said sharply.
“No … not me … but I heard them. You live in the woods and tell fortunes.”
Tamarisk approached and stood still, looking intently at Leah.
As for Leah herself she could not take her eyes off the child. I thought she was struck by her extraordinary beauty.
“Tell my fortune,” said Tamarisk.
“Fortune telling is not for children,” I said.
“Oh yes, it is. It’s for everybody.”
Leah had taken the small hand which had been thrust into hers. She said gently: “When you are young, there is nothing written in the palm. It comes when you grow older.”
“Nothing written on it!” She seized my hand and studied it. “There’s nothing written on Jessica’s.”
“It is not writing with a pen,” explained Leah. “It’s written by life.”
“Who is Life?”
“What we are … what we are growing up to.”