Land of Hope and Glory Read Free Page B

were honest, the memory of his wife, Katelin, still held him back.
    ‘Have it your way, then,’ Sarah said, with an edge of bitterness to her voice. She turned to leave.
    ‘Wait.’
    She looked back.
    What could he say? ‘It’s for the best.’
    She huffed, spun away again and marched back to the house, her long dress swishing about her.
    Jack scratched the back of his neck. That had gone about as well as could be expected. At least it was over now. Part of him wished he could just give in and be with Sarah. She was a good woman. But it would never work.
    He pressed on into the darkened grounds, crossed the small stone bridge over the brook and continued into the formal garden. Oblong-shaped, ornamental trees stood in rows beside ponds that reflected the moon. Lines of white orchids and lilies swayed in the breeze. He smelt the cool fragrance of flowers and moss. The wooden gazebo, half buried by vines, brooded in the centre.
    Beyond the garden was a series of hedges and then the orchard. He walked between the apple and pear trees, smelling the sweetness of the growing fruit.
    About halfway through, the hairs suddenly stood up on the back of his neck and his skin rippled. The air seemed to tremble with a strange energy. He’d been expecting this.
    He stopped and sniffed. A faint, but familiar, scent encircled him. It was like a mixture of sandalwood, musk, saffron and rosewater. Distinctive, yet impossible to describe.
    Sattva.
    A powerful stream coursed through the grounds here, and he sensed it every time he walked through. He was sure no one else in the house knew about it. Only he had the sensitivity and training to detect it.
    He took a deep breath. That smell reminded him of the past, back when he’d still been able to use his power.
    A movement off to the left disturbed him. What was that?
    He crouched, peered into the gloom, listened intently, searching the surroundings for signs. Tracking came to him instinctively – he’d learnt the skill from his father from the moment he could walk.
    He noticed the movement again – a quick swish near to the ground. He sneaked forward and paused, partially concealed by a tree trunk. Despite the warning he’d given Edwin, the only intruder during all his years as head guard had been a vagrant boy stealing fruit. He waited for several minutes and then a red-brown streak shot between the trees and disappeared – a fox. He gave a small chuckle. He’d thought as much, but it was always best to be cautious. The old army training, the old reflexes, would never leave him.
    He slunk to the end of the orchard – leaving the sattva stream – and reached the stone wall that marked the perimeter of the property. Beyond the wall lay miles of fields belonging to Shri Goyanor – the nearest neighbours were five miles away.
    He walked beside the wall until he reached the iron gate that was the only back exit to the property. He checked that the bolts were secure and then, satisfied that everything was in order, set off back towards the house.
    As he crossed the bridge, he started to feel out of breath.
    He stopped on the other side and leant against a willow tree. He tried to catch his breath, but his chest felt tight and sweat formed on his forehead. This had happened several times recently. What was wrong with him? Was his injury getting worse?
    He shut his eyes, and after a minute his breathing eased. That was better. He opened his eyes again and went to move on.
    Then he felt a thump in his chest, as though someone had kicked him. His ears rang and white spots spun before his eyes. He fell against the tree and sat there, hunched. He was choking. He tried to call for help, but he was too weak even to do that. Blackness passed over him and he fought to stay conscious.
    ‘Jack!’
    He opened his eyes. Sarah was crouching over him with a lantern in her hand.
    He blinked. He felt better – he could breathe again and the pain in his chest had gone.
    Sarah crossed herself. ‘Thank