Doctor Who and the Crusaders (14 page)

He stood, crouched beside his rope now, wondering if the
men would notice it, urging the girl silently on as she rushed towards the very passage-way he had marked down for his own flight, her tightly-bound hands held out in front and her hair flowing behind her. She had long since lost her yashmak and Haroun could see the cruel gag which stretched her mouth open. He saw the loose stone ahead of her and almost shouted to warn her, but in a second her foot had caught on it and she fell badly, knocking all the breath out of her body as her shoulder struck the ground. The two guards, who had seen their quarry almost disappear into the safety of the maze of houses, their brains shuddering at what their master would do to them, gave a shout of joy and ran towards her.

Haroun swung himself up to the little parapet and launched himself into the air. His two feet struck the guards equally, right in the centre of each of their backs, sending them both staggering with the force of the unexpected attack. Haroun fell to the ground, rolled and jumped to his feet, conscious that the girl was staring at him in astonishment. He rushed over to the dazed men, who had bumped into each other and fallen into an untidy heap, heaved them up and banged their heads together violently, watching in satisfaction as they rolled away and lay still. He moved over to the girl and gently brought her to her feet.

Barbara stared at her rescuer curiously as he untied her hands and removed the gag from her mouth. She saw a strong, compact man of just over six foot, poorly dressed in patched clothes. Yet, for all his poverty of dress, there was a certain dignity and bearing about him; and while lines of deep sadness had cut their way into his face, his eyes had a genuine humour. Barbara guessed his age to be in the early forties. Instinctively she felt she could trust him.

He took her by the arm firmly and guided her through the passage-way, hurrying her through this arch and down that
turning, until her sense of direction floundered.

‘I am Haroun ed Diin,’ he told her.

‘Thank you for helping me. But why did you?’

‘We have a common enemy in El Akir. It makes for uncommon friendship.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To safety. My daughter, Safiya, will give you something to eat and drink. Then you will sleep, restfully, knowing that I am on guard.’

‘Something to drink sounds marvellous,’ she said gratefully.

‘It will help to wash away the taste those carrion must have left in your mouth.’

Barbara noticed that they were moving into a much poorer and more depressing part of the town. Where before the occasional people they had passed had eyed her curiously, now the glances were bolder, sharper, much more inquisitive. The dwellings were more tightly packed, making a rabbit warren of alleys and corridors.

‘Since Lydda has been in the grip of El Akir,’ Haroun told her, ‘all manner of people are poor. But in the Old Quarter, where we are now, the sweepings of the area are gathered. Thieves, villains, cut-throats, these are my neighbours – some of them my friends.’

‘Yet you are not one of them?’

He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. ‘Not truly, although I have adopted some of their ways this last year. There is one consolation. El Akir’s soldiers do not come to the Old Quarter.’

He drew her through an old, crumbling archway and up a winding flight of stone stairs, the steps worn down by many feet. His hand at her elbow he guided her carefully, pointing out the pitfalls, helping her where the stones were damaged.

Finally, he stopped at a door upon which he knocked once, paused and knocked twice again, pushed it open and led her into a small hallway, composed of three blank walls in a bad state of repair and an arched entrance covered with a curtain of beads. He stepped over to the arch and held the strings of beads aside, gesturing to her to enter.

‘My poor house is yours,’ he said softly.

Barbara walked through and found quite the opposite to what she had expected, for the room beyond was beautifully clean (although she had anticipated this, at least, from her estimation of the man) and furnished well. The carpet under her feet was soft and so far beyond his means that she wondered if it were stolen. And yet she put the idea out of her head, because Haroun didn’t seem to fit the role of thief, even in the face of his having said he had borrowed some of his neighbours’ habits.

A girl opened a door and walked into the room and Haroun went to meet her, taking her hands and kissing her on the forehead.

‘This is my daughter, Safiya.’

She was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with a slender figure and a beautiful heart-shaped face, physically a perfectly-formed woman, yet with the innocence and mannerisms of a child, and her pleasure at seeing Barbara was one of completely unaffected delight. She ran over and hugged her, and Haroun gave Barbara a grave smile above his daughter’s head.

‘Safiya welcomes company other than mine.’

‘Oh, Father, that is not true! You know I love you dearly.’ She looked up into Barbara’s face, for she stood less than five feet. ‘But I do hope your visit will be a long one. For a moment, Father, I thought you had found Maimuna.’

Haroun’s face suddenly revealed a tremendous sadness, and he turned away.

‘No, I have had no fortune with my search today, Safiya.’

The girl disengaged herself from the embrace and led Barbara to a couch, chattering about her thoughtlessness in keeping Barbara on her feet, and asking her if she would like something to eat and drink.

‘Yes, bring our guest some refreshment. Treat her as you would a close cousin, daughter. And bring clear water, as well as wine,’ said Haroun.

‘Yes, Father,’ Safiya replied obediently. She took Barbara’s hands and examined the weals on her wrists with dumb horror, her eyes widening and filling with tears.

‘They look much worse than they are,’ said Barbara gently.

‘I’ll prepare some food, and then we must bathe them – I have some salve which I shall spread on your wounds as soon as you have eaten.’ She looked up at Barbara. ‘You have not told me your name,’ she said timidly.

‘Barbara.’

The girl kissed Barbara’s hands and ran out of the room. Haroun drew up a stool and sat down.

‘Haroun, I don’t want to make trouble for you and your daughter. You’ve done more than enough for me already, getting me away from El Akir’s men.’

He held up a hand as she spoke. ‘I am in constant danger,’ he said seriously. ‘A man who seeks vengeance always is. For I have sworn to take the life of him who has destroyed all that I hold most dear.’

‘El Akir?’

‘Yes, that vile and evil creature. Last year I lived some eight days’ ride from here, in a prosperous little town, near the river of Litani. I had a reputation as an honest trader, organizing caravans from the coastal towns of Tripoli and Beirut to Syria and Egypt. At that time I was accounted rich, but my real
wealth lay in a gentle, devoted wife, a son who honoured and obeyed me and two daughters who adorned whatever place they visited. We lived in a fine house, filled with laughter and happiness.’

Barbara sat quietly, giving the man every scrap of her attention. He spoke undramatically, not colouring his words with any undue emphasis or emotion, as if he were relating events which had occurred to someone else.

‘One day,’ he continued, ‘to that town of Selnik where I resided with my family, El Akir came to trade. He and his men had captured a Venetian ship that had gone aground near the coastal town of Sidon, which lies between Beirut and Tyre. He boasted how he had crept down to the beaches, slain the sailors who were trying to save the ship’s cargo, and transported the stolen goods overland. The prices he asked were four times as much as the goods were worth and of the first three traders he visited two he slaughtered and one he had beaten so badly he was crippled for life – for all three refused to do business with him. Then he came to me. I had been warned about the man, and called out my friends and servants. Together we disarmed his men and drove them from the town. El Akir we carried, ignoring his screams for mercy, and dropped him in the River Litani and made him a laughing-stock. Hundreds lined the bank as the villain splashed and spluttered.’

‘You should have killed him then,’ said Barbara.

‘Perhaps, but at that time the punishment seemed the right one.’

The rattling of cooking utensils and the pattering of Safiya’s feet in the kitchen broke the silence that fell between them. Barbara waited, knowing she must hear the end of Haroun’s story, realizing that perhaps he was relating it all for the first time and that the very telling of it might help to ease
his private sorrows.

‘I had to leave Selnik to visit my business friends in Tripoli and I took Safiya with me, for I believed that travel sharpened the imagination of my children, so each one was my companion, in rotation, on my journeys. El Akir had now collected a small army. He descended on Selnik and burned my house, put my wife and son to the sword, sold my servants into slavery. My warehouses, livestock, vineyards, all were destroyed. And when he left this death and destruction and came to Lydda he brought my other daughter, Maimuna, with him.’

‘Wasn’t there anything you could do, Haroun? No law to protect you?’

‘None. For the great battles take precedent over minor incidents such as mine. So, when I learned of the tragedy this awful man had visited upon me, I brought Safiya to Lydda, adopted this disguise and waited my turn – I am still waiting.’

A little shiver ran down Barbara’s back as she saw the intensity which had crept into his eyes, making them glitter. Then Safiya came in, bearing a pitcher of water and some plain goblets and broke the mood. Soon the three of them settled down to their evening meal.

El Akir, of course, was quite unaware of the presence of Haroun ed Diin in Lydda, or that he had become Barbara’s unexpected ally. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten all about the incident at Selnik, for all the women in his harem had been taken by force and there were a considerable number of them, so Haroun’s daughter Maimuna, even though her beauty was considerable, represented no more than another triumph in a chain of incidents to the Emir. He thought of them, collectively, as the advertisement of his power, as a true fighting man might count the number of his victories or a
general add up the battles he had won.

As the Emir stared down at the two guards who had been responsible for Barbara’s escape, the runaway became the symbol of setback, and his vanity couldn’t accept such a thing. His ingenuity had led to the girl’s abduction, right under the nose of the Great Sultan himself. Now she had gone because of the stupidity of two lazy, inefficient members of his palace guard. They had been brought before him and stuttered out the story. A dozen men, they swore, had attacked them and carried the girl off, each one of the men being seven feet in height and heavily armed. El Akir didn’t waste any time considering the excuses. He turned to the Captain of his guard.

‘Their punishment is your affair, Abu Talib, but see that it is harsh. I have no use for fools.’

Abu Talib spoke a few words and the two guards were pulled away, screaming and protesting.

‘They will be flayed, master, until they reveal the real truth of what occurred. Then they will be imprisoned… with a cask of water.’

El Akir studied the face of his Captain sharply and Abu Talib smiled slowly.

‘The cask of water will have a large amount of salt added to it!’

The Emir nodded, dismissing the matter from his mind.

‘Now the girl! What has been done to bring her back?’

‘We have searched Lydda for her and can find nothing.’

‘All of Lydda?’

‘All but the Old Quarter, but that is a den of thieves, Your Excellency. I would need many men.’

‘Take every man you require,’ shouted El Akir. ‘I want every room in every place searched. Throw light on every shadow. Tell the men I will pay fifty gold pieces for the woman, but
tell them she must be found.’

Abu Talib put his right hand over his heart, bowed and hurried away. Half an hour later, a hundred men descended on their objective from four sides, separated into groups of twenty-five, while another fifty men with the Captain at their head marched to the very centre of the Old Quarter and set themselves down in a crumbling old square, ready to strike at any place should there be any serious resistance.

Barbara awoke to find Haroun shaking her shoulder. Immediately she heard the distant sounds of shouts and running feet and quickly sat up on the couch. Safiya stood near her, trembling with agitation.

‘The soldiers have invaded the Old Quarter,’ Haroun said quietly.

‘It’s my fault,’ she replied, shaking the sleep from her head. ‘They’ve come to search for me.’

‘You will be safe here. I have a hiding-place.’

He turned and nodded to his daughter, who ran obediently to one of the walls and tugged on a rope which hung from the ceiling. Barbara watched as part of the wall moved outwards, revealing a small cubby-hole. Safiya stepped inside it and melted into the shadows.

‘There isn’t room for three of us in here,’ Barbara objected. Haroun took out the knife he wore in his belt and held it out to her.