Beneath the Dover Sky by Murray Pura Read Free Book Online Page B

state, period.
    I’m used to the Arabs and Jews being at each other’s throats. Yet I knew this region had shades of Ireland to it, where Jew might turn on Jew or Arab on Arab just as Irishman had turned on Irishman. However I confess I did not expect the cold-blooded murder of a Jew by other Jews. It has given me a bit of a jolt. Not least because I knew de Haan personally and he was one of my brightest hopes for Palestine’s future. Really, the only way we can keep Jerusalem from spiraling down into a cycle of constant violence is to establish a nation that is inclusive of Muslims and Jews and Christians. That is the spirit de Haan epitomized, and he was having successful talks with Arab leaders. Obviously too successful in the eyes of the Haganah and the Zionists.
    Well, it could just as easily have been the Arabs who had done it. They too have their hotheads who don’t want a Palestinian state that includes Jews in its government. How will the moderates prevail when there are so many with their fingers on the trigger on both sides? And here we British are in the middle. How can I possibly sort all this out when the leaders I have most counted on to bring peace to this region are cut down in their prime?
    I’ll get this in the mailbag for England straightaway. I am so very sorry we can’t make it up for your birthday, Dad, but you see how things are. Perhaps we’ll be able to get away next year.
    Meanwhile, despite all this, Shannon and I enjoy good healthand relish this wonderful climate. God bless you and please pray for us here.
    Love to all,
    Robbie
    Lady Preston was fingering her necklace and staring out the parlor window at the apple trees. “I should like to live to see peace in Jerusalem.”
    “It has been this way from time immemorial, Elizabeth. One group fighting another. Several Danforths went on Crusades, you know.”
    “I just don’t want them turning on our British troops for lack of something else to do. There’s a viciousness in Palestine I had not counted on. I fear Robbie is in harm’s way again.”
    “Nonsense.” Lord Preston folded the letter and tucked it back in its envelope. “They have no reason to go after our army. We’re there to help.”

    “Now you settle in here behind this bush,” ordered Fairburn.
    “I’m not behind the bush,” complained Skitt, “I’m in it.”
    “All the better. The poachers won’t be able to tell you from a thatch of brambles.”
    The sun had gone down, but there was still enough twilight to see clearly when Skitt crouched down in the brush. Fairburn handed him a cricket bat.
    “Now if you spot ’em, holler like the dickens and I shall come running from my hut. Whack them about a bit with the bat and soften ’em up for the constables. Remember, the poachers are on our land so they’re trespassing. And if they’ve come for the swans, they’re poaching as well. And they’re not just taking anyone’s swans.”
    “I know, I know. They’re poaching the swans of the Marquess of Preston.”
    Fairburn made a sour face. “They’re not just the Marquess of Preston’s swans, lad. They’re the king’s birds.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Have I not told you? The swans of this estate have been under royal protection by edict since 1789. Twenty years back, they were Queen Victoria’s swans. Today they’re King George the Fifth’s. All the more reason to knock the poachers about a bit and give them what for.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “We’ll spell each other. You have tonight and tomorrow night. Then it’s my go. Have you got your flask of tea?”
    “Aye. Mrs. Longstaff fixed me two great ham sandwiches as well.”
    “Good enough. We’ll see you at dawn then, unless you catch ’em. Don’t forget to make a great racket that will bring me on the run. Cheers.”
    “Cheers.”
    Skitt hunkered down further into the bush, opened his leather flask, sipped some tea, screwed the cap back on, and began to hum “Abide with Me” while he