Château d’Etchebar

His muscles meltin g in the scalding water, his body weightless, hel dozed as his feet enclosed Hana’s in slack embrace. It was a cool day for the season, and dense steam billowed, filling the small bathing house.

“You were very tired when you came home last night,” Hana said after a sleepy silence.

“Is that a criticism?” he muttered without moving his lips.

She laughed lightly. “On the contrary. Fatigue is an advantage in our games.”

“True.”

“Was your trip… successful?”

He nodded.

She was never inquisitive about his affairs; her training prohibited it, but her training also taught her to create opportunities for him to speak about his work if he wanted to. “Your business? It was the same sort of thing you did in China when we met?”

“Same genre, different phylum.”

“And those unpleasant men who visited us, were they involved?”

“They weren’t on the ground, but they were the enemy.” His tone changed. “Listen, Hana. I want you to take a little vacation. Go to Paris or the Mediterranean for a few weeks.”

“Back only ten hours and you are already trying to be rid of me?”

“There may be some trouble from those ‘unpleasant men.’ And I want you safely out of the way. Anyway”—he smiled,—”you could probably use the spice of a strong young lad or two.”

“And what of you?”

“Oh, I’ll be out of the enemy’s range. I’m going into the mountains and work that cave Beñat and I discovered. They’re not likely to find me there.”

“When do you want me to leave, Nikko?”

“Today. As soon as you can.”

“You don’t think I would be safe here with our friends in the mountains protecting me?”

“That chain’s broken. Something happened to Miss Stern. Somebody informed.”

“I see.” She squeezed his foot between hers. “Be careful, Nikko.”

The water had cooled enough to make slow movements possible, and Hel flicked his fingers, sending currents of hotter water toward his stomach. “Hana? You told me that you could not bring up the subject of marriage again, but I said that I could and would. I’m doing that now.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that for the past few days, Nikko. No, not marriage. That would be too silly for such as you and I.”

“Do you want to go away from here?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“Let’s not make plans. Let’s remain together for a month at a time. Perhaps forever—but only a month at a time. Is that all right with you?”

He smiled and nestled his feet into hers. “I have great affection for you, Hana.”

“I have great affection for you, Nicholai.”

“By the Skeptical Balls of Thomas! What’s going on in here?” Le Cagot had snatched open the door of the bathing room and entered, bringing unwelcomed cool air with him. “Are you two making your own private whiteout? Good to see you back, Niko! You must have been lonely without me.” He leaned against the wooden tub, his chin hooked over the rim. “Arid good to see you too, Hana! You know, this is the first time I’ve seen all of you. I shall tell you the truth—you are a desirable woman. And that is praise from the world’s most desirable man, so wear it in health.”

“Get out of here!” Hel growled, not because he was uncomfortable with nudity, but because Le Cagot’s tease would go flat if he didn’t seem to rise to the bait.

“He shouts to hide his delight at seeing me again, Hana. It’s an old trick. Mother in Heaven, you have fine nipples! Are you sure there isn’t a bit of Basque in that genetic stew of yours? Hey, Niko, when do we see if there is light and air at the other end of Le Cagot’s Cave? Everything is in readiness. The air tank is down, the wet suit. Everything.”

“I’m ready to go up today.”

“When today?”

“In a couple of hours. Get out.”

“Good. That gives me time to visit your Portuguese maid. All right, I’m off. You two will have to resign yourselves to getting on without my company.” He slammed the door behind him, swirling the scant steam that remained in the room.

After they had made love and taken breakfast, Hana began her packing. She had derided to go to Paris because in late August that city would be relatively empty of vacationing bourgeois Parisians.

Hel puttered for a time in his garden, which had roughened somewhat in his absence. It was there Pierre found him.

“Oh, M’sieur, the weather signs are all confused.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so. It has rained for two days, and now neither the Eastwind nor the Northwind have dominance, and you know what that means.”

“I’m confident you will tell me.”

“It will be dangerous in the mountains, M’sieur. This is the season of the whiteout.”

“You’re sure of that?”

Pierre tapped the tip of his rubicund drunkard’s nose with his forefinger, signifying that there were things only the Basque knew for certain, and weather was but one of them.

Hel took some consolation in Pierre’s assurance. At least they would not have to contend with a whiteout.

The Volvo rolled into the village square of Larrau, where they would pick up the Basque lads who operated the pedal winch. They parked near the widow’s bar, and one of the children playing pala against the church wall ran over and did Hel the service of bashing the hood of the car with a stick, as he had seen the man do so often. Hel thanked him, and followed Le Cagot to the bar.

“Why are you bringing your makila along, Beñat?” He hadn’t noticed before that Le Cagot was carrying his ancient Basque sword/cane under his arm.

“I promised myself that I would carry it until I discover which of my people informed on that poor little girl. Then, by the Baby-Killing Balls of Herod, I shall ventilate his chest with it. Come, let’s take a little glass with the widow. I shall give her the pleasure of laying my palm upon her ass.”

The Basque lads who had been awaiting them since morning now joined them over a glass, talking eagerly about the chances of M’sieur Hel being able to swim the underground river to the daylight. Once that air-to-air exploration had been made, the cave system would be officially discovered, and they would be free to go down into the hole themselves and, what is more, to talk about it later.

The widow twice pushed Le Cagot’s hand away; then, her virtue clearly demonstrated, she allowed it to remain on her ample bottom as she stood beside the table, keeping his glass full.

The door to the W.C. in back opened, and Father Xavier entered the low-ceilinged bar, his eyes bright with fortifying wine and the ecstasy of fanaticism. “So?” he said to the young Basque lads. “Now you sit with this outlander and his lecherous friend? Drinking their wine and listening to their lies?”

“You must have drunk deep of His blood this morning, Father Esteka!” Le Cagot said. “You’ve swallowed a bit of courage.”

Father Xavier snarled something under his breath and slumped down in a chair at the most distant table.

“Holà,” Le Cagot pursued. “If your courage is so great, why don’t you come up the mountain with us, eh? We are going to descend into a bottomless pit from which there is no exit. It will be a foretaste of hell for you—get you used to it!”

“Let him be,” Hel muttered. “Let’s go and leave the silly bastard to pickle in his own hate.”

“God’s eyes are everywhere!” the priest snarled, glaring at Hel. “His wrath is inescapable!”

“Shut your mouth, convent girl,” Le Cagot said, “or I shall put this makila where it will inconvenience the Bishop!

Hel put a restraining hand on Le Cagot’s arm; they finished off their wine and left.