Free The Cruel Count (Bantam Series No. 28) by Barbara Cartland Page B

the small red berries.
    She picked a handful, and when she could hold no more and thought she had best take them back to the Count she turned round.
    She had wandered quite some way from the trees and was standing on a little plateau covered with flowers which descended sharply down to the trees below.
    As she started to walk back towards the wood there was a hissing noise in the grass and in front of her she saw a long black snake.
    She was frozen into stillness, realising she could not move backwards and it would be almost impossible to pass the reptile without it striking at her.
    Almost involuntarily she gave a little cry and realised that the Count had risen to his feet.
    “What is it?” he called.
    The snake was hissing aggressively, and now Vesta thought that to call out might incite it further.
    Vaguely at the back of her mind she remembered it was best not to move when one encountered a snake, but to stand still. She therefore stood rigid, holding the strawberries in her hand, her eyes on the snake.
    It seemed to resent her presence, raising its head, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its mouth, its yellow eyes regarding her balefully.
    She could see the movement of the scales on its back and she had a feeling that at any moment it would dart towards her and strike at her ankle.
    The Count had come to the edge of the wood. He saw at once what was keeping her silent, and with a swiftness she could hardly believe possible he ran to his horse and drew something from the saddle-bag.
    Then he was moving purposefully towards her.
    “Keep still, do not move!” he commanded.
    At the sound of his voice the snake toned its head towards him and then there was the shattering report of a pistol as the Count shot it dead. The noise echoing and re-echoing round the mountains and across the valley.
    Vesta saw its head was shattered but its tail was still thrashing in the air. The Count stepped over it and picking her up swung her over the still writhing reptile to safety.
    He put her down and looked at her pale face.
    “Are you all right?” he asked. “It did not touch you?”
    “No ... I am all ... right,” Vesta answered and turning she walked away from him.
    ‘I must not show emotion,’ she told herself severely. ‘I must be calm. He will think it ill-bred if I am afraid of a snake.’
    The sound of the pistol-shot was still ringing in her ears, and when she reached her horse she hung onto the saddle as if for support. The Count came back towards her.
    He went to his own horse and drew from his saddlebag a red silk belt such as she had seen the natives in Jeno wearing.
    He put it on and slipped the pistol into it and she knew it was intended to carry either pistols or a knife.
    The Count came to her side.
    “I should have anticipated there would be snakes at this time of the year,” he said angrily. “It was criminally careless of me, first to let you wander about without warning you, and secondly not to have been wearing a pistol. It will not happen again.”
    “Was that snake ... poisonous?” Vesta asked in what she hoped was a calm voice.
    “As a matter of fact it was!” the Count answered. “There are many snakes in Katona some of them quite harmless, but a bite from one of the black ones sometimes proves fatal.”
    As he spoke he picked her up and put her on the saddle.
    “We had best hurry on towards civilization,” he said. “We have had enough of the other sort these last twenty four hours to last us both for a life-time.”
    He mounted and rode on at a quicker pace. Now the trees were interspersed with rocks and Vesta noticed that the Count seemed to be looking upwards and around him as if he was searching for something.
    As the path grew wider she rode up beside him.
    “What are you looking for?” she asked.
    “Nothing in particular,” he answered, “but it is not always wise to draw attention to oneself in this particular region. It has a somewhat unhealthy reputation. A pistol shot