Daughters of Rebecca (15 page)

But the time came, late one night as he lay in bed, hearing the sounds of creatures abroad in the dark, when Joe allowed himself to think of home. He let the picture of Llinos, his wife of many years' standing, fill his mind. She was a good woman, a beautiful woman. Would she still want him?

How would his wife feel when he told her that the prophecy had proved wrong, that Joe's son would never rule the Mandan tribe? Unless, a startling thought entered his mind, it was Lloyd, his first-born, who was meant to rule the Mandan. Surely that was impossible.

Thoughts whirled around in his head and he was relieved when the morning light came creeping into the house, filling the corners of the large rooms with warmth. Joe rose and washed, then
stood naked at the window of his bedroom, staring out at the new day. A cloud of dust rose on the horizon and he shaded his eyes against the sun to see more clearly. Gradually, the dust gave way to the figure of a man on a horse. And as horse and rider drew closer, Joe saw Binnie lift his hat and wave it in the air.

Joe dressed and made his way downstairs. The maid was cooking breakfast and the smell of food filled the room. Joe never ate breakfast so he took a glass of juice and sat with it on the porch.

Binnie was already seated on the porch swing. He smelt of horses and fodder, and Joe knew he had been about since sun-up seeing to his animals. Binnie scarcely worked in the potteries these days: he left that to the men he employed. His stables were his interest, filled with thoroughbred horses for show and for stud.

Joe glanced at Binnie. His skin was almost as bronzed as Joe's and he looked well and healthy, a man content with his life. Binnie was the sort of man who would never take another woman to his bed: he loved his Hortense with a burning passion, and Joe envied him his uncomplicated life.

‘Joe, man, you've hardly slept a wink and you look dog tired. I know the death of your woman and your child is painful for you. Life can be hard sometimes.' He leaned over and rested his hand on Joe's shoulder. ‘Go home to Llinos and to your son. They need you.'

How could Joe tell Binnie his inner thoughts? How could he explain that in the darkness of
night he feared he had ruined his marriage and lost the love and respect of his wife? ‘I'll pack up my belongings tonight and start back first thing in the morning,' he said. ‘You're right. It's time I took charge of my life again and settled things at home. I'm grateful to you and Hortense for allowing me this resting time, peace to gather my wits and accept that the death of Sho Ka and the boy was meant to be.'

‘It's been great to have a visitor from back home,' Binnie said. ‘I love my life here in America but I still think of the old town of Swansea sometimes. And look, Joe, don't think you're obliged to leave. You can stay with us for as long as you like, you know that.'

‘Thanks, Binnie.' Joe smiled. ‘But I have to get back, I'm longing to see Llinos. I need to see if I can make up for the unhappiness I've caused her. Do you think she'll understand, Binnie?'

Binnie rubbed his tanned cheek. ‘Some women need to know the truth.' He spoke thoughtfully. ‘My wife is one of them. I was slow in realizing that I should have told her about my first marriage to Maura, how I ran away from my responsibilities.' He shrugged his big shoulders. ‘I thought it best to keep quiet, but it nearly cost me my marriage to Hortense.'

‘And you think Llinos is a woman who needs to know the truth?'

‘Llinos is a brave lady, and I admire her with all my heart. Tell her you're sorry you hurt her. Try to explain that the past is over and the future with her is all-important to you. I expect she will be angry, hurt, and perhaps unforgiving for a
time, but Llinos would prefer the truth to any shilly-shallying, I do know that.'

Joe sighed. ‘I expect you're right.' He stared up at the sky. ‘Perhaps I had better make a start early in case the weather changes.'

‘Well, if it rains you must wait. It's no good to man or beast to ride out in a storm.' Binnie got to his feet. ‘I'm going to wash the dust off me. See you later.'

Joe nodded, but still he sat looking out into the bare plains dotted with dried brush. It would rain, he could feel it in his bones, and that meant a delay of another few days. All he could hope was that, once she saw him, Llinos would forgive him. But even he knew that it was a faint hope.

Darkness was falling on the streets of Swansea. Low, heavy clouds threatened rain. Shanni shivered, edging close behind the crowd of men. A few other women straggled along, dressed as Shanni was in hooded cloaks. She felt her excitement mount: she was eager to see at first hand what Dafydd intended to do by way of protest. Madame had changed her mind at the last minute and forbidden Shanni to go out. ‘On second thoughts it's far too dangerous for you and for me.' Madame Isabelle had been frowning. ‘If you were seized by the police where would they come? To me, of course. No, better you stay in your bed this night.'

That was where Isabelle thought she was now, safely in bed. Shanni smiled, remembering how she had climbed from the window of her bedroom
and made her way to the place where the men were to meet.

The moon trailed across the sky, dodging in and out of the clouds, and Shanni caught sight of Dafydd Buchan, strange in horse-hair wig and petticoats. And yet, in spite of the clothes, he looked menacing. Some of the other men were wearing women's clothing, ‘Daughters of Rebecca', they called themselves, and Isabelle had explained that the name was taken from a quotation from the Bible. Dafydd had a different story: he said that a woman called Rebecca, a huge woman, was the only one in the neighbourhood with skirts big enough to fit a man.

The crowd had reached the gate on the Carmarthen Road at last, and Shanni heard Dafydd shout for the keeper of the gate to come forth from his bed. After a few minutes a startled woman with hair loose to her waist opened the window of the toll-house peering over the sill, her face white in the glare of the torches. ‘Go away!' she called feebly, but for an answer, one of the men began to hack at the gate, tearing at its hinges. The cracking of timber echoed through the darkness.

Once the gate was down, a torch was set to it and the wood began to blaze fiercely, sparks shooting into the sky like fairy-lights. The woman inside the toll-house began to scream, and Shanni looked over her shoulder, afraid the noise would attract attention from the wrong quarter. Perhaps the police would come and drag every one of them off to the prison. It was a fearful thought.

One of the men shouted above the noise,
‘Justice for the people!' Someone threw a burning torch through the window of the toll-house and immediately the flames sprang upward, smoke billowing from the window. Justice for the farmers, if it came at all, was going to cost some people their lives.

Shanni heard a terrified shriek and the woman ran from the house, her skirts aflame. ‘You'll kill me!' she wailed.

A torch was lifted high into the air and Shanni heard it crack as it caught the woman a blow to the side of her head.

‘No!' Incensed by the mindless violence, Shanni pushed her way through the crowd but Dafydd was there before her. ‘Stop this!' he shouted above the noise of the flames. ‘The Daughters of Rebecca want justice not revenge on the innocent.'

Shanni pulled her cloak closer around her, shivering in spite of the warmth of the evening. Dafydd stood before the crowd of men, his arms raised. ‘Get to your homes!' he shouted. ‘Our work here is done.'

Slowly, the men began to disperse, muttering protests but afraid to disobey. As the crowd thinned, Shanni saw the woman from the toll-house crouching on the ground holding her head. Shanni took a quick breath, the picture in her mind of her mother being shamed by the
Ceffyl Pren
. Anger against this woman who was betraying the cause mingled with pity as she watched her limp back towards the toll-house.

Shanni heard the sudden crack of a pistol and
broke into a run. Breathless, she made her way back across the fields to Isabelle's house. There had been nothing heroic about the action tonight. A defenceless woman had been hurt, her belongings burned. Was that how justice was achieved?

Climbing back into the bedroom was more difficult than Shanni had imagined. The rough stonework tore at her stockings and by the time she swung herself over the sill she was breathless. She dropped through the window into the bedroom, gasping for breath.

‘I needn't ask where you've been!' Madame Isabelle was standing in the doorway, a candle in her hand. Her face was white in the pale light, and her voice had a hard edge to it. ‘I expressly forbade you to go to the gate.'

Shanni sank on to the bed. ‘I'm sorry.' She was still struggling for breath. ‘I didn't know there was going to be so much anger and violence or I wouldn't have gone.'

‘I told you it would be rough. The men are tired of half-hearted efforts to make landowners see sense, and that is why I changed my mind about you going tonight. Do you realize that if you had been discovered you would have been traced to my house? I would be questioned about how a young lady from Swansea came to know of the movements of the rioters.'

Shanni nodded. ‘I do understand and I'm sorry, Madame. I was very foolish and I won't ever do it again.'

‘You won't be given the chance!' Madame Isabelle said. ‘At least, not from my house.' She sat on the bed. ‘I won't allow you to stay here
until I have your solemn oath that you will not disobey me again.'

‘I'll give it freely,' Shanni said. ‘I swear I will never go to a meeting from your house without your consent.'

Madame Isabelle nodded. ‘Very good.' She held the candle high. ‘Well, now that you have seen what happens to the gates, what do you think?'

‘The energy of the men was wasted. Why don't they attack the people who impose the tolls instead of picking on poor defenceless women?'

‘The women you speak of, they should not betray their fellows by manning the gates in the first place. It's often their own families who suffer when the tolls are imposed.' Madame paused. ‘As for the landowners, their day will come.' She got to her feet. ‘Now, try to sleep, or you will be too tired in the morning for your music lesson – and then what will Mrs Mainwaring have to say?'

She closed the door quietly and Shanni was left in darkness. As she undressed she could smell the smoke on her clothes. She grimaced and draped them across the chairs to allow the air to freshen them.

She washed quickly in the cold water from the jug and basin then crept into bed. But she could not sleep. Shanni kept seeing the frightened face of the woman at the gate, and deep within her she knew that, however just the cause, nothing good would come of this night's work.

‘So the gate on the Carmarthen Road was burned last night, then?' Llinos sat in the hotel bedroom
with Dafydd and pulled on her boots.‘Thank goodness you got back safely. But how did Pedr Morgan know where to find you?'

‘I left word with Isabelle,' Dafydd said. ‘I should have held the men back, kept them in check.'

But he had been thinking of her. She was more important to him than the burning of a gate. The thought made her feel young again, beautiful and desirable. But it was a dangerous feeling, and a dangerous situation she had got herself into. Llinos felt a pang of guilt: she was a married woman and she was committing adultery, she should be ashamed. But all she felt was happiness.

‘Do you know if anyone was injured?' she asked, although her mind was scarcely on the rioters – not when she had her own worries. Joe would be home one day, and how then would she manage to meet Dafydd, with her husband keeping his eye on her?

‘According to Pedr, the woman from the toll-house was hit,' Dafydd said, ‘but she wasn't badly injured, thank God. I wish the men would show a little restraint. I'm all for the rights of the privileged but last night's violence was unnecessary.'

Llinos felt suddenly anxious. ‘Isn't this dangerous, Dafydd, this rioting and burning down gates?' She answered her own question: ‘It must be! Oh, Dafydd, be careful.' She turned to him, rested her head against the warmth of his back. ‘I hate to think of you going out there on dark nights. What if the men of the constabulary catch you? And surely the militia have guns? You might be killed.'

‘Don't worry.' Dafydd took her in his arms. ‘I'm like a cat – I've got nine lives. Now, come along, Mrs Mainwaring, I'd better get you home.'

Yes, home. But for Llinos home was no longer the happy place it had once been. Home in the pottery house took her too far away from Dafydd.

‘We'll see each other again soon, won't we?' she asked.

A smile softened Dafydd's face. ‘Of course we will. Nothing could keep me away from my little darling.' He kissed her, and the gentleness of his touch, the look of love in his eyes, made her heart swell with happiness. Whatever happened in the future, she would always be glad she had spent this time with Dafydd Buchan.

Joe stared miserably through the window at the rain-drenched plains. There was little chance of continuing his journey if the weather did not change. Even when the rain stopped, the ground would be muddy and the animals would find the going heavy.

‘Hey, Joe, come and have a drink of my father-in-law's fine whiskey with me.' Binnie was intentionally cheerful. He was a kind man and Joe knew he would far rather be sitting round the log fire with his family than drinking with him.

‘I think I'll have an early night,' Joe said, ‘but I'm obliged to you for the offer.' At the door he paused. ‘I know I must be outstaying my welcome but I'll be off in a few days and leave you in peace.'

‘Nonsense!' Binnie said. ‘You're no trouble around the place. Hortense likes you, and the
boys enjoy your tales of the Mandan. It all sounds like an adventure story to them, you growing up with the Indians then going off to a fine college in England.'