Chieftains

It had been a full year after the incident at the ball before he and Jane had become lovers. It hadn't been planned. Again, it was summer…long and dry, the grass scorching brown and the leaves becoming dusted on the trees near the roadsides. Max had suggested the trip into the mountains south of Hildesheim; it was an easy run down the autobahn. 'Find ourselves an inn and stay overnight. Get some good food and a breath of fresh mountain air. Take a rod, James, there may be a decent trout stream.'

It had been too tempting to refuse; not the thought of being with Jane, but the chance to get away from the barracks and the countryside around Bergen.

Saturday morning came and with it the unexpected arrival of a friend of Max's from the Royal Tank Regiment at Herford, passing through on his way to a NATO posting in Denmark.

Max's apologies. 'Go on ahead. I'll have lunch with him here in the mess, and we can meet this evening at Salzdetfurth. Take rooms at the gasthof, and I'll be there in time for drinks.'

'It doesn't matter, we'll wait…well travel together later. Or we can put the whole thing off until another weekend.'

Max wouldn't hear of it. 'Jane can't stand the fellow. Hates him! Didn't even like him when we were at college together. No, you two go ahead.'

They had driven down the long highway, busy with weekend traffic. The holiday season had not yet ended, and there were families heading south with camping trailers, their cars heavy with luggage. Repair works slowed the journey, funnelling the traffic across the central barriers, reducing the cruising speed. They had stopped for lunch at an autobahn restaurant south of the Hannover intersection, and been happier once they had left the main highway after Hildesheim and taken the narrower mountain roads.

They stopped near a wooded stream, a tributary of the Leine near Bockenhem, and sat beneath the rowans and beeches. There was a kingfisher hunting the shallow pools, and the cool sounds of water bubbling amongst the rocks. They were both cautious, shy, avoiding any physical contact, aware of the dangers of such a trigger. They talked a little. Jane dozed, while Studley rested with his back against the bole of an old beech and let the problems of the week slip away.

It was five by the time they reached the gasthof and booked rooms; almost seven when Max telephoned from the mess at Bergen.

'Damn him, Max. We're booked in here.' Studley could hear Jane's voice, peeved with the knowledge Max was probably only delayed because he couldn't deny his hospitality. 'James and I will have dinner, then drive back…pretty crowded but they'll have cleared…no, of course not…well, I'm not exactly delighted…Charles should have given you warning, anyway…well, yes, it would probably be better…about eleven…if we've gone out, we'll leave a message for you. Yes…I'll see you then…' She hung up and spoke to Studley. 'Charles has decided to stop over for the night, and Max is having dinner with him.'

'I suppose I'd better unbook our rooms.'

'No need. Max suggests we stay. He'll be down in the morning, about eleven.'

He knew by her tone of voice she had decided that some time in the next few hours they would make love. He was uncertain for a while if it was because of her annoyance with Max or a decision to relax the tight control she had maintained over her feelings for the past months. There had been occasions when he had considered that some time in the future this kind of situation might arise, and he had wondered how he would deal with it. The simple answer was to avoid it, but now it was happening. He didn't feel like a gentleman, but neither did he feel guilty.

'I noticed a prettier restaurant further down the road, shall we give it a try?'

'I'd like that, James.'

She had hooked her arm in his, affectionately, once they had left the gasthof to stroll through the town. The restaurant had been small, intimate, Bavarian in its conception. He couldn't remember what they had eaten, only her face; her eyes watching him across the candlelit table.

Sometime after midnight they had returned to the gasthof, its stone-flagged hallway smelling of cigar smoke and beer, echoing their footsteps. It seemed deserted.

Their two rooms were adjoining. He had opened the door to his own, and she had walked inside, there had been no suggestion, no invitations. There was moonlight in the room, and for the first time they kissed. It was gentle, tender. He could taste the perfume on her neck and shoulders as he undressed her, the light summer clothing slipping away until she was naked; there was a moment of awkwardness as he stripped, then she was in his arms, her body small, warm against his own.

She was slender, and be felt her pelvis against his thighs and let his hands trace her soft curves. The bed had been only a step away in the small room, and she had lain in the bright square of moonlight that shone through the uncurtained window.