PART ONE

He emerged from the trees abruptly, to find himself on a small bluff of grey rock. He stood blinking for a moment, the afternoon glare of LATE August sharp after the twilight of the woods. From his vantage point he could see the golden-brown of new stubble, folds of pasture and beyond, the swell of soft blue hills. Immediately below, close enough to distinguish clearly, a small wattle and daub cottage with a couple of ramshackle barns adjacent, and a pile of sawn logs. Chickens scratched in the yard and a small boy and girl ran laughing along the bouncing branches of a nearby tree, prostrated in the recent gale and obviously not yet cleared away by the husbandman. His eyes were drawn to the mass of golden hair which haloed the broad, strong face of the big woman who sat resting beneath the old shade tree, suckling an infant. The rough, tawny-haired dog who had been panting softly beside her, catching wind of the stranger, leapt to its feet and began to bark with a note of self-righteous indignation: ‘This is my place. What the hell do you mean by sneaking up like that? Watch your step!’