Culum was fighting his way up the track made by Struan. He was almost exhausted and only his dogged will kept his feet moving. His clothes were torn and his face scratched from the clawing weeds. But still he climbed.
At length he came to the crest, his chest heaving, the wind tugging at him.
Struan was sitting on the ground a few feet below in the lee of the wind. A tablecloth was spread and there was food and a bottle of wine.
“Here, lad,” Struan said, and offered a half glass of wine.
Still panting, Culum took the wine and tried to drink but most of it dribbled down his chin. He wiped it off and gulped for air.
“Sit down,” Struan said.
To Culum’s astonishment, Struan was smiling benignly.
“Come on, laddie. Sit down. Please sit down.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“The view’s better from here, isn’t it?”
“One moment you’re the Devil,” Culum said, his lungs burning from the exertion, “and now—now—I just don’t understand . . .”
“I brought chicken and bread,” Struan said. “And another bottle of wine. Does that suit you?”
Culum sank down, spent. “Chicken?”
“Well, you did na have breakfast, did you? You must be starving.”
“About the knoll. I—”
“Catch your breath, rest, then eat. Please. You’ll na have slept these two nights. It’s nae good to talk on an empty stomach. Eat sparingly, or you’ll be sick. It was a strong climb up here. I’m tired mysel’.”
Culum lay back against a rock and closed his eyes and gathered his strength, his body crying out for rest. He forced his eyes open, expecting this to be a dream. But there was his father, studying the south sea through binoculars.
“About the knoll. I was—”
“Eat,” Struan interrupted, and offered him some chicken.
Culum took a drumstick. “I can’t eat. Not before I’ve said it. I had to do it.
I had to. You’d never have agreed and it was the only way. Brock would have destroyed you. He would have stopped bidding. I know he would. If he didn’t hate you so much and you him, then you’d have the knoll.
You forced the issue. You did. It’s your fault. The knoll’s the Church’s and that’s right. You forced it.”
“Aye,” Struan said. “Of course. I’m very proud of you. It took great courage. Robb would never have done it, or even if he’d thought of it he’d never have been able to carry it through.”
Culum was dumfounded. “You—you wanted me to do that?”
“Of course, laddie. It was the only solution to an impossible situation.”
“You—you planned me to do that?”
“I’d gambled that you’d do it, aye. I hinted that you should do it. When you were so nervous about seeing Longstaff—and when you avoided me at Happy Valley—I thought you’d arranged it. Then I was put off by your reaction to Gordon. But Longstaff later said, ‘Your
other gesture, marvelous!’ and then I knew you’d worked out the only possible solution. I’m very proud of you, lad. Brock would certainly have slaughtered us. I could do nothing to prevent it. The knoll was a matter of face.”
“You—you pushed me—pushed me for two days and two nights into hell—knowing there was a simple answer?”
“Was it so simple?”
“For you it was!” Culum shouted. He jumped to his feet.
“Aye,” Struan said, suddenly harsh. “For me. But na for you. But you made the decision and you’re better for it. Now you’re a man. If I’d suggested the ‘House of God’ to you, you’d na have been able to carry it through. Never. You’d’ve given yoursel’ awa’. You had to believe in what you were doing. If Brock had thought for an instant that I planned it with you, he’d’ve made us the laughingstock of Asia. We’d’ve lost face forever.”
“You’d sacrifice me for face?” Culum screamed. “Your godrotting face?”
“Ours, Culum,” Struan said. “And it’s good to hear you swear at long last. It improves you, lad!”
“Then all the anger, your anger—it was pretense?”
“Of course, lad,” Struan said. “That was for the benefit of Brock. And the others.”
“Even Robb?”
“Robb more than any. Eat some food.”
“The pox on food! You’re the Devil! You’ll pull us all into hell with you. By the Lord God, I swear I’ll—”
Struan bounded up and grabbed Culum by the shoulders. “Before you say something you may regret, you’ll listen. I gambled you had the guts to decide, and you did. By yoursel’. Wi’out help from me. And I blessed you. Now you’re Culum Struan, the man that dared to cross the Tai-Pan. The man that took his cherished knoll away. You’re unique. You’ve gained more face in one day than you could acquire in twenty years. How in God’s name do you think you control men and lead them by the nose? By the strength of your arm only? No. But by your brain. And by magic.” He let go of Culum.
“Magic?” Culum choked out. “But that’s black magic!”
Laughing softly, Struan sat down and poured himself a glass of wine. “Those with brains will see how wise you are. ‘That Culum’s clever. He gives the knoll to the Church. And thus stops that devil Struan from destroying The Noble House by placing their wealth on a worthless knoll. But Culum’s saved the Tai-Pan’s face at the same time— that devil canna kill Culum Struan for giving the land to the Church.’ ” Struan sipped the wine. “Even Brock’s got to be impressed, whether he thinks it’s a secret deal or na—because you carried it off. The religious will bless you for giving the ‘best’ to the Church. The fools like Longstaff will fear you and ask your counsel. The cynics will be awed by the smartness of your solution and loathe you and say, ‘Culum’s got the devil of his father in him. Best watch out.’ I’d say you’ve gained stature, lad.”
“But—but if I’ve—then you, you’ve lost face?”
“Aye. But I’ve enough and to spare. For you and for Robb. And na much time to cement you into place. You watch, laddie. They’ll all be thinking, ‘Culum got away with it once, but will he try it again?’ And they’ll hope we’ll hate each other so much that we’ll destroy each other. And that’s exactly what we’re going to try to do. Openly. In public.”
“What?”
“Certainly. Cold hostility whenever we meet. And before long, Brock’ll try to seduce you to his side. Cooper will—and Tillman. They’ll feed you lies—or twisted truths—hoping you’ll become so full of hatred that you’ll ruin me and yoursel’ in the bargain. And The Noble House. For all the traders want that prize. But now, now they’ll never get it. You’ve proved yoursel’, by God.”
“I’ll have nothing to do with this,” Culum said quietly.