He turned and nodded to Jamal, who picked up the woman again, and they started to walk.
It took them just over an hour to reach the plane, and by the time they were there, Cunningham had become a dead weight on Kane’s arm. He lowered the Englishman to the ground and dragged him under the shade of the wing and propped his back against the side of the plane. He left Jamal to handle the woman and climbed into the cabin.
He found the jerry can with no trouble and his hands were trembling as he carried it out. Something swirled inside so he quickly pulled off the metal stopper and lifted the can to his lips. It tasted terrible, warm and brackish, but it was liquid and there seemed to be four or five pints of the stuff.
He crawled under the wings and poured a little of the water over Ruth Cunningham’s face. She groaned and then her eyes opened slowly. The skin was stretched tightly over her flesh and her lips had cracked in several places. He gently raised her head and poured a little water into her mouth.
She coughed and some of it seemed to trickle down her chin, and then she seemed to come alive and her hands reached out for the can, forcing the opening against her lips as she took a long swallow.
She leaned back with a sigh and Kane moved across to Cunningham. The Englishman seemed more himself and managed a weak smile. ‘Sorry I was such a nuisance. What happens now?’
Kane indicated the jerrycan. ‘You’ll find about four pints of water in there,’ he said. ‘It should keep you going through the rest of the day.’
Cunningham frowned slightly. ‘What about you and Jamal?’
‘We’ll carry on,’ Kane said. ‘We haven’t got any choice. You and your wife can’t walk any further. If we stay here with you, we’ll all die. If either Jamal or myself gets through, we’ll get help to you as soon as possible.’
There was silence for a moment and then the Englishman smiled faintly. ‘As you say, there really isn’t any choice.’ He held out his hand. There doesn’t seem to be much more I can say except good luck and what the hell are you waiting for?’
For a second longer, they clasped hands, and then Kane moved towards Jamal. He opened the water-bottle and swallowed half its contents. He handed it across to the Somali, who emptied it and tossed it away in one long easy throw. For a moment or two they looked into each other’s eyes and then they started to walk. As they topped a small rise, Kane looked back once, and then he took a deep breath and plunged down the other side.
The sun was a living thing that had somehow become a part of him so that they were one, and marched as one. It was impossible to judge how much time had elapsed since they had left the plane, because time had ceased to exist and had no meaning.
A man couldn’t walk in breastplate and greaves. It was impossible. Better to discard them. The helmet had gone a long time before and now he marched with only his sword to weigh him down, the short, stabbing sword of the Roman soldier, his riding cloak folded across his head to keep the sun from his brain. He had to keep going, had to get back to the General with his report. Duty came first, as it always must with a soldier, but there was another reason. The girl – the girl with the dark hair and milk-white skin and the mouth that was a cool well. Almost as cool as the sea off the Piraeus at Athens where he had swum as a boy, diving down into the green depths, twisting amongst the fishes, scaring them away in great glittering clouds and rising slowly to the surface in a spiral of bubbles.
He fell forward on his face. For a little while he stayed there on his knees like an animal, and then he was jerked to his feet and a hand slapped him across the face. Jamal held him steady, eyes staring anxiously inio his. Kane tried to speak and found that he couldn’t. He nodded several times and started forward again.