City of Jasmine (26 page)

“Considering her willingness to see
us
dead, you’ll pardon me for not shedding violent tears at the notion,” I retorted. “So, the deserters are outraged that a European lady has been treated so shabbily by the natives and they’re out for blood, is that it?”

“More or less.”

“And it doesn’t matter to them at all that the Bedouin who left her for dead are not the same as the villagers they plan to attack?”

“Evie, to most Europeans a Bedu is a Bedu. They don’t bother to split hairs about it.”

His words were matter-of-fact, but his expression was thoughtful.

“Hamid and his men are going to fight, aren’t they?”

“Hamid doesn’t want to give the deserters time to recover from this morning’s attack. They suffered some losses when they destroyed the Mezrab village, and Hamid wants to strike while they’re still recovering.”

I took a deep breath. “Then we have to help him.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I do,” I told him firmly. “I worked in a convalescent hospital, you’re forgetting. Oh, I tried to stay away from the worst of it, but I saw plenty. It was vile, and I can’t even imagine inflicting that sort of horror on defenceless women and children. If there is anything at all we can do to help, we must.”

Sheikh Hamid returned in time to hear my last remark, followed by Halliday, who had obviously been brought up to speed. “It may be too late for that,” Hamid began.

I cut in sharply. “We can’t leave this village unprotected,” I said, digging in my heels. “We’ve come here and brought trouble among them. It’s our responsibility to protect them if they are in danger.”

Hamid gave me a broad smile. “Lady, these are
my
Bedu. They could fight demons and leave nothing to send back to hell. But,” he added, turning to Gabriel, “this is a winter camp. There are elderly people here, and women and children. These are not just warriors. If the deserters have sufficient men—”

“Then we must act,” Halliday said quickly. “We ought to assess the threat properly and if it is indeed a threat, we must direct attention away from this place.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Gabriel asked in a slow drawl.

“I can take up my plane and fly over to see what sort of numbers they have. A sort of reconnaissance mission,” he said. He spoke calmly but there was a barely contained excitement simmering just under the surface. I wondered how often a junior diplomat got to engage in acts of derring-do. No doubt he thought himself a great champion of the noble Bedouin. The fact that his attitude might be construed as patronising seemed not to occur to him.

“I think it’s a smashing idea,” I said. “But I’m coming with you.”

Halliday smiled regretfully. “Nothing I’d like more, but I’ve only got the one seat.”

“I meant in the
Jolly Roger.
You said she’s fine now, and I haven’t taken her up since Venice. I miss the old crate.”

Halliday hesitated. “Evie, I hardly think, that is to say...” He turned to Gabriel. “Mr. Starke, as her husband, surely you possess the authority to deal with Mrs. Starke. It’s really most unsuitable for a lady to even consider such a thing.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Evie will do as she pleases.”

I blinked at him. I had half expected him to bully me out of flying just to spite me.

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

Halliday was spluttering. “But surely, Mr. Starke, you understand the danger.” He lowered his voice. “The remnants of that Turkish outpost may have some anti-aircraft artillery we don’t yet know about.”

Gabriel turned to me with a bland smile. “Isn’t that what all those aces used to call a ‘beautiful death’?”

I put my fists on my hips. “You’re both being completely outrageous. Well, not so much you, Mr. Halliday. You’re just being a man, and an Englishman at that. You’ve spent too much time with traditional, old-fashioned girls. You need a modern girl to bring you up to speed. But that is quite enough out of you, Gabriel. You were right before—I shall do exactly as I please and it doesn’t concern you in the least.”

With that, I turned on my heel and strode to my plane. I didn’t have my flying leathers with me, but fortunately Aunt Dove and I were of a size and I slipped into hers. “Shall I come with you, dear?” she asked.

But she was lounging on a pile of woolen cushions and wearing a loose Bedouin robe, drawing peacefully on a
nargileh
while Arthur twittered happily in the background.

“Not a bit of it. You look perfectly relaxed, and you ought to rest. That flight from Damascus must have been frightful.”

She shrugged, but I noticed she moved her shoulders a little stiffly. She puffed on her pipe as I changed and nibbled a few dried dates. “You know, I begin to see what Jane Digby was thinking in coming to live like this. It’s quite restful in its own way. If they could only mix a good whisky and water, I’d be tempted to stay.”

“Not an option for us,” I told her, dropping a quick kiss to her cheek. “The Bedouin seem to think the whole desert is going to be afire soon with resistance to the French since Faisal has declared independence.”

She puffed again. “That’s something I should like to see. It’s about bloody time some of these fellows took their own country back. We’ve had our claws in these places long enough.”

I left before she had a chance to work herself up into an anti-Empire rant and ran smack into John Halliday. He was pulling on his flying helmet and he gave me a regretful smile.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you to reconsider?”

I grinned. “None. In fact, I’ll race you.”

I pounded towards my plane and he ran for his. Hamid and his kin, having been given a short tutorial on how to start a propeller, were standing at the ready. I stepped onto the wing and swung myself into the cockpit. I was just settling my goggles into place when I felt the
Jolly Roger
give a shudder. I whipped my head around to find Gabriel standing in the rear cockpit, tossing a hundred-pound ballast bag over the side as if it weighed no more than a feather.

“What the devil are you doing in my plane?” I demanded. “Get out at once.”

“Not a chance,” he said, settling himself in. He buckled his safety belt and gave me a dry smile.

I looked to Halliday, who gave me a shrug and a thumbs-up. I turned back to Gabriel.

“Have you ever flown before?”

“Are you afraid I’m going to fall out?”

“I’m not that lucky. Now listen up, you can’t make sudden movements back there. Anything too quick could upset the
Jolly Roger.
She only weighs thirteen hundred pounds and if you start bouncing around, we’ll be upside down before you can blink. So sit down and be quiet and let me do what I do.”

He gave me a meek thumbs-up and I turned back to the front. Halliday’s plane was already fired up, and I waved him on to take off first. He hesitated then rolled out to shouts and ululations from the villagers.

I followed, lifting off smoothly just after Halliday. He had done a bang-up job on fixing her. The
Jolly Roger
was rising as sweetly as she ever had, and for a moment I gave myself up to the sheer joy of flying. I took her nose up, not too sharply because she had been known to stall if she didn’t like the incline, but Halliday had already climbed quite high. He led us over a few ridges of rocky hills to the east, and a long, flat sandy plain dotted with brown bushes lightly ruffled in pale green. Spring in the desert.

We passed over another ridge of hills, and just as we topped the rise, bullets screamed out from the ground, strafing past us. One hit the back of Halliday’s machine, and he immediately put her in a climb, just steep enough to get himself out of danger but not so sharp to stall. I followed suit and came up next to him as we levelled off.

He was mouthing something excitedly, but I pantomimed that we had indeed found the deserters.

They were firing furiously at us, but the bullets fell far short, and we banked sharply back towards the village, circling a few times in wide arcs. Gabriel hung over the edge, peering down at the outpost, noting the details, and when he gave me a thumbs-up, I motioned to Halliday that we should start back.

We landed without incident, and as soon as we killed the engines, Halliday jumped from his machine to give me a hand down.

“I say, that was jolly exciting,” he said, his eyes alight.

I grinned. “How’s your crate?”

He gave his plane a rueful look. “Sheared the aileron cable,” he told me. “It’s a bloody mercy I made it back at all.”

He looked abashed at his language, but I grinned. “Never mind. I promise I heard worse every day in flight school. Can you fix her?”

He shrugged. “If I can find a bit of cable, it’s simple enough. Without it, I’m grounded. Still, it’s been a devilish good plane, although nothing as pretty as yours,” he added with an admiring glance at the
Jolly Roger.
She was rather beautiful, I thought, her slender black wings shimmering in the desert sun.

Gabriel gave us both a long, level look then strode off to find Hamid.

“Is there something amiss with Mr. Starke?” Halliday asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

I looked to where Gabriel was having an intense conversation with Hamid. It seemed that Hamid was pressing him and Gabriel was refusing something. Their expressions were grimly similar.

I shrugged. “Heavens, I don’t know. Just because you’re married to a man doesn’t mean you understand him.”

He flushed faintly. “I say, Evie, it’s all rather complicated with Mr. Starke in the picture— That is to say—” He looked distinctly uncomfortable and I put my hand up.

“Never mind, John. My marital entanglements seem to be taxing your diplomatic skills to the utmost. Now, let’s go and find Aunt Dove and see what mischief she’s got up to while we’ve been gone.”

Sixteen

We found Aunt Dove and ate a quick meal, but it soon became apparent that the coming clash with the French deserters had heightened the atmosphere to a fever pitch. Nerves were taut and excitement thrummed in the air. Gabriel found me as I emerged from Aunt Dove’s tent.

“Where is Aunt Dove?”

I nodded towards the tent. “Inside. Reading to Arthur.”

He blinked. “She’s reading to the parrot?”

“Yes, the
Q’uran.
She said it’s only fair since he heard Mass in Rome.”

He snorted, and held up his hand as I started to explain. “I don’t want to know. But I’m glad she’s out of the way. Hamid and his men have just about finished their preparations. They mean to attack at dusk and take the deserters by surprise.”

My heart thudded uncomfortably as I glanced at the sky and its lowering sun. “An hour, then?”

“Give or take. Evie—” he began.

“Oh, don’t. I can’t bear scenes, you know that. Besides, you’re not going without me. I want to help.”

“Out of the question,” he said flatly. “In fact, if you give me trouble about this, I will tie you up and dump you in a tent until I’m back. There’s not a Bedouin in this place who would cut you free, either. Remember, you’re my property as far as they’re concerned,” he warned.

I stepped up to stand toe-to-toe with him. “Don’t feed me that rot, Gabriel. I’m certainly not your property, and I have a suspicion that the women would be most inclined to see my point when I explain that I might well be able to save a son or two.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do you intend to do that?”

“By doing precisely what I did earlier today—flying over the outpost. Those deserters can’t resist shooting at an aeroplane, even if it’s out of range. Every rifle aimed at the
Jolly Roger
is one less aimed at a Bedouin.”

He fell silent a moment, and I didn’t press the point. I simply let him think it over, and to my astonishment, he gave a grudging nod.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Gabriel! Do you mean it?”

“I must be mad, but yes.” He gave a heavy sigh as I hurtled myself at him, throwing my arms about his neck.

“Oh, you won’t be sorry! Heavens, I don’t know why I’m thanking you because I was going to do it, anyway, but it will make it so much easier not having to sneak around—” I broke off, uncomfortably aware that my arms were still looped about his neck, his face inches from mine, his lips so very close.

I stepped down from my tiptoes, pulling my arms away and shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Good thinking, pet,” he said, his eyes mocking. “Unless you’d like to indulge in a bit of marital congress before sending me off to face possible death at the hands of the enemy?”

“Of course not. And don’t be vulgar,” I said automatically. But even as I refused, I realised I did not entirely mean it.

He gave me a quick nod and a smile and strode off then, disappearing into a tent. One of Sheikh Hamid’s men gave a signal, a cry of summoning, and within moments all of the warriors of the tribe had assembled. They carried ancient rifles and some of their bandoliers were only half-filled with bullets, but they were a magnificent sight, standing at the edge of the camp, their saddled horses nearby, draped in tasselled finery and tossing their heads as they stamped their feet impatiently. They were as ready to go as the men were, but there was some sort of ceremony that had to be observed first. Several of the men came forward in turn to speak briefly, and as they spoke I kept a watchful eye on the sun. If it sunk too far, I’d be flying blind on the way back, and I slipped away from the edge of the crowd to find Aunt Dove seated in front of her tent, Arthur’s cage hanging from a tent pole beside her. She was watching with rapt interest, and I almost regretted telling her I was going. The last thing I wanted was to worry her.

I should have known better. “Of course you are,” she said roundly when I had finished explaining. “I would expect nothing less. What can I do?”

I sketched out my request and she nodded. “Of course. I’ll get Halliday to help. He’s been having such a moan over that wretched plane of his. I’m sure he’d love nothing better than to be in the thick of things, but I’ll smooth it over. I shall explain to him how it will ease the minds of the ladies left behind to have such a strong fellow to defend them should worse come to worse. Men lap that sort of thing up.”

“Mind you don’t trowel it on too thickly or you might find yourself betrothed by morning.”

She made an airy gesture and the waning light caught the sparkle of the paste rubies on her fingers. “All in a day’s work, child. Besides, I suspect he has other fish to fry,” she added with a knowing glance.

I widened my eyes. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. But it’s a pity he doesn’t realise it’s a futile effort. You’ll never look at another man so long as you have eyes only for Gabriel Starke.”

“Eyes only for Gabriel?” I spluttered. “Of all the ridiculous— Really, darling, are you starting on senility? Tell me now so I can take over your affairs.”

She waggled her fingers at me. “Oh, ‘methinks the lady doth protest too much.’”

I said a bad word and turned to go. She put out her hand and caught mine, turning me back to her. Her expression had turned serious. “No, darling. You can be as angry as you like, but you can’t leave without a kiss. I should have thought you’d have learned that by now. After all, you never know when you just won’t see someone again, do you?”

She kissed me soundly on both cheeks and put a hand to my face. “Now, go and fly your beautiful
Jolly Roger
and give them hell, is that the expression?”

“It will do,” I told her, blinking back a tear.

I went back to the crowd, which was still seething with excitement. I heard a single word repeated over and again, an invitation. Saqr. I caught their fervour as they waited outside his tent for Sheikh Hamid. They raised their voices higher still, chanting his name—“Saqr!”—and at the fever pitch of it, when the people had grown hoarse, Rashid came to find me.

His eyes were bright. “
Sitt,
the Saqr wishes to see you.”

He gestured for me to follow him to Sheikh Hamid’s tent and I did, uncertain of what to expect.

I entered the tent to see the Saqr standing before me. Garbed in the robes of a Bedouin prince, he was warrior and king, a creature striding straight from myth. He wore blinding white from head to foot. Only the black of his boots and the bright polish of the bandoliers spanning the breadth of his chest broke the purity. A narrow gold cord bound the white headdress to his brow, and under it, the bluest eyes I had ever seen held mine with a calm and level forget-me-not gaze.

“Surprised?”

I gaped at Gabriel. “But I don’t understand. You said Sheikh Hamid—”

“You said Hamid. I didn’t correct you.”

I shook my head to clear it. “I don’t understand,” I repeated. “How are you the Saqr?”

“It’s a long story, pet, and one I don’t have time for now. The short of it is that what your Colonel Lawrence was doing in front of movie cameras in the south, I was doing up here in secret. I built a legend for them to use to rally their own people, but it’s over now.”

“How is it over when you look like...like that?” I demanded, still unsettled at seeing him looking so shatteringly heroic.

His expression was resigned. “It has to be.” He buckled on a wide belt with a glittering gold sword. “Ready, pet?”

The crowd was chanting the name of the Saqr, and I wondered fleetingly if he had summoned me for moral support. I followed him out of the tent, and as he emerged, the cheers were deafening. The crowd parted, calling blessings upon him as he moved through them.

He strode to his horse, a mount they had put aside for him—an unblemished animal of solemn white, whiter even than the beautiful Hadibah. It was caparisoned in white and gold and as he held the headstall, he drew out the sword, a magnificent thing with a long curved blade, the golden hilt gleaming in the setting sun. He held it high overhead and waved it three times, each time pointing it directly to the east. And every time, the people chanted, louder and louder, and then Gabriel turned and led the horse to where
Sheikh Hamid stood.

Gabriel bowed his head until the people were silent. A breeze had sprung up, rustling veils and robes as it passed over the land, the only sound amid the throng. When they were still, Gabriel lifted his head.

“Sheikh Hamid, brother and friend, it is no longer—and never was—my place to lead you. For too long my people have meddled with yours.” He turned to the crowd and lifted his voice. “I am no longer the Saqr. But I will follow he who is. I will fight for him and for you—but as your friend, Djibril, if you will have me.” He bowed his head again and lifted the sword to Hamid.

For a long moment, no sound, no movement came from the crowd. But then a voice, a single voice—was it Rashid’s?—called Hamid’s name. He looked from the sword to the crowd, and they erupted in cheers, chanting his name and calling him Saqr. Slowly, he reached out and took the sword from Gabriel. He waved it three times overhead, and the cheers multiplied.

He turned back to Gabriel. “You will always have a place among us, my brother.”

A thousand questions tumbled in my head, but it was not the time for answers. For now, the mantle of power had been shifted, and Gabriel, who had looked hunted a moment before, now relaxed as he passed the rein for his milk-white mount to Hamid. The others hurried to their waiting mounts as the women lifted their voices in farewell.

Sheikh Hamid signalled for his own lovely Hadibah to be brought forward and Gabriel swung himself into the saddle, touching Hadibah’s flanks lightly, springing her to join the warriors just behind the Saqr.

“My God!” I hadn’t heard Halliday approach, but he was staring openmouthed, as I was at the spectacle of the warriors preparing to ride out.

I said nothing as the men moved out. There was nothing to say. I could not think of it now, how utterly, unspeakably wrong I had been. I burned with shame at the thought of the things I had said to him, the way I had mocked his pride, his courage, and all the while—no, I could not think of it or I would go mad. I put it aside as Ryder had taught me, forcing myself to think only of the job ahead.

The men moved out, the women trailing after a little distance. But the men spurred their mounts, their swords waving high, and within moments they were out of sight of the little valley, only a cloud of dust hanging in the pink light of dusk to show they had been there at all.

I hurried towards the
Jolly Roger,
Halliday trotting along in my wake. I clapped on my leather helmet as Halliday hefted the ballast bag into the second cockpit. He hesitated and I turned to him. “Do you want to come along?”

His smile was wry. “Is that all I’m fit for? Ballast?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. Don’t trouble yourself, really. I do think it’s best I stay here. The women are quite undefended if those rotten deserters carry the day. I’d hate to think—well. Best not to, then.” He paused. “Did you have any idea?”

I paused, my fingers tightening painfully. “About Gabriel? No. I’m afraid I’ve been very stupid indeed.”

He gave me a wry smile and touched my hand. “Haven’t we all?” He stepped back and saluted smartly. “Godspeed, Evangeline Starke!”

* * *

I found them in less than ten minutes, a tightly bunched group of men riding fast and hard to the east. I flew high enough not to choke them with dust and waggled my wings as I passed over. I looked back to see them raising their rifles in salute, and
Sheikh Hamid at the front, pointing them in the direction of the outpost.

I eased back on the stick, pointing her nose upwards as I approached the outpost. The noise of her engine carried far on the desert air, and I heard the crack of gunfire as I came into sight. They were waiting for us, and I pulled a barrel roll just to give them a show. I trotted out every trick Ryder ever taught me, every bit of showmanship and razzle-dazzle I could muster. The deserters poured out of the outpost, each of them trying for the chance to take down the
Jolly Roger.
I kept her far out of range, but the sight of her taunted them, and they were staring up and to the east when the Bedouin rode into their outpost out of the westering sun.

I watched them scramble for weapons, but there was no time. One or two tried to rally, but faced with the discipline of the Bedouin, the rest turned and fled. Determined to see justice done, the Bedouin pursued the deserters while a few remained behind to finish off the handful who stayed to fight. The harshness of it was more than I could have imagined, even circling high overhead, and as soon as the shooting stopped, I brought the
Jolly Roger
down and sat for a long moment, my hands still wrapped tightly about the stick.

After a long while, the shouts and shots faded and I could smell smoke from one of the outbuildings as it burned up. The Bedouin were making their way back, calling jubilantly to one another as they picked their way through the litter of destruction.

Still wielding the sword of the Saqr, now sticky with blood, Sheikh Hamid appeared at my shoulder, his face set in an expression of deep satisfaction.

“You’re pleased, then?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Justice has been satisfied. Those who survived run like frightened hares into the desert where most will die for lack of water.” He smiled grimly. “You will observe they did not take provisions and they are fleeing to the south when the roads to the north lead to cities. In their panic, they have chosen poorly.”

“I don’t imagine you gave them much time to think it all out,” I replied.

The smile deepened, and his manner was so calm we might have been discussing a Sunday cricket match on the village green. “Little sister, a woman will never truly understand the burden a man carries.”

“Burden?”

“The burden of responsibility for the lives and the happiness of all his people. We did not seek this bloodshed. They brought this upon themselves by their attack upon our allies, the Mezrab. And we have made our point—that so long as there are Bedouin in the Badiyat ash-Sham, we will never surrender. The men who survive this will wander into the desert, and as I said, most will die. But some will live. They will see their cities again and they will tell this story. They will talk of the day when the Bedouin rained fire upon them and sought vengeance. And these deserters will know they have made enemies of us and that we stand with our king and the legend of the Saqr lives on.”