Parade of Shadows (14 page)

Hardly breathing, poor Monsieur Louvois stood quite still in the hope that he would somehow go unobserved, but a word or two from Khidr directed the soldier's attention to the proper target. The lieutenant snatched Monsieur Louvois's case from him and, forcing it open, clumsily began to unwrap the pieces inside. For a moment I believed Monsieur Louvois would choke the man. He must have thought again, for he remained where he was until the lieutenant discovered the ibex and began to handle it roughly.

Monsieur Louvois grabbed the officer's arm.
“Barbares!”
he shouted. “You know nothing of such things. Let them go where they are honored.”

The lieutenant began to hustle the Frenchman off. “You will come with us to Antioch.”

Sheikh Abd el Rehman thrust himself between the officer
and Monsieur Louvois. “This man has been a guest at my house. He has eaten my food. By custom he remains under my protection for three days.” Monsieur Louvois, like a dog who knows his master, moved closer to the sheikh.

The lieutenant swung his rifle into position. The younger soldier looked like an innocent pedestrian who had wandered by mistake into a street brawl. The sheikh, ignoring the rifle, unsheathed his dagger. Hakki bravely stepped between them. “We must have no bloodshed,” he pleaded in an unsteady voice. “There must be no violence, for that would be fatal to our party. We appreciate your kindness, sheikh, but Monsieur Louvois is under my protection and it is I who must decide what is to be done.”

Hakki appeared to consider matters and then said, “Clearly Monsieur Louvois has broken the law.” Paul Louvois shot him a furious look. Hakki went on. “I don't believe it is a serious offense; however, he must not remain here but be transfered to Antioch at once. That way we will not be separated from him by any distance. As soon as we reach Antioch, I will get in touch with the French consul, who will make everything right. But let the police know I hold them responsible for his treatment.”

Hakki was now clearly in command of things. Watching him, I could not help wondering if he had more influence
with the Turkish officers than we had guessed.

As the soldiers approached Monsieur Louvois, he shrank from them. Desperately he pulled a handful of money from his pocket and held it out to them, saying, “I'll pay a fine. You have only to tell me the amount; but you must leave the case with me.” While the younger soldier looked hungrily at the money, the lieutenant hustled Monsieur Louvois away.

When they were gone, Father said, “Louvois was a fool not to have waited until he was alone with the officers. He offended them by offering a bribe in plain sight of everyone. Under those circumstances they could not possibly have accepted it. He was mistaken to think he could get out of this without giving up his treasures. The police will keep them to resell, and take the profit for themselves.”

Hakki was upbraiding Khidr, who listened impassively until Hakki paused for breath, leaving him the opportunity to reply in a spiteful voice, “You expect us dragomen and mukaris to be honest, but these infidels you try to protect come here to break our laws. That man did what he should not do. Does he not deserve to be punished?” He turned on his heel and, mounting his horse, rode off after the policemen and their prisoner.

Edith apologized to Hakki, “You hired that rogue,
Khidr, on my say-so; I'm most awfully sorry. He must have looked into Louvois's saddlebag while we were in the orchard and seen the chance of a rich reward. I promise you there was no trouble when I traveled with him before, but of course he knew my things were not worth the having: dead plants and handfuls of seeds. We'll all march over to the French consul when we get to Antioch and straighten things out.”

Father said, “I don't suppose he'll get into too much trouble, since he hasn't as yet actually taken the things out of Syria. But he won't be happy to leave his knickknacks behind.” Father could not hide his satisfaction. “At least he will be too much in the eye of the authorities to do any business for the French.”

Edith appeared shocked. “You mean it isn't just dirty old toys he's after?”

“Does anyone come to this country without some purpose?” I asked.

Graham said unkindly, “Are you suggesting the ideal state is to have no purpose?”

I gave Graham a hurt look.

“As there is no hotel in Antioch,” Hakki said, “Watson and Sons has engaged rooms for us at the house of the British consul. He will surely know how to approach the French consul.”

Father was doubtful. “I wouldn't be too optimistic about the abilities of the British consul in Antioch. I don't suppose the Foreign Office has been able to find an Englishman of any great ability who would be willing to settle in that godforsaken place.”

Graham pointed out, “Having traveled in Louvois's company, we will all be under a cloud.”

I said, “Now that Monsieur Louvois has been arrested, I suppose we will all be closely watched. What will our reception be in Antioch?” I was afraid for Graham.

Graham said, “I suppose it won't be quite as nasty as the punishment meted out by Baybars during the Crusades, when sixteen thousand crusaders were butchered in Antioch.”

“If you are counting bodies,” Edith said with a sniff, “don't forget what the crusaders did to the Muslims and Jews in Jerusalem. There was quite a pile of arms and legs scattered about.”

I winced, determined to ask no more questions.

I
N MY CONCERN FOR
Monsieur Louvois and worry about Graham, I hardly noticed the dusty roads and the countryside through which we rode. On one side the city was sheltered by Mount Silpius; on the other side the Orontes River, like a fat snake, coiled and looped about the city.

The small village with its humble, windowless houses, stingy streets, and groves of mulberry and olive trees was hard to imagine as the city Hakki described as once having been the glory of Greece and Rome. Only the ancient wall, curving protectively around the town and stretching out onto the plain as far as you could see, suggested that Antioch had been worth defending. I was becoming depressed by all the dwindled cities, their glory gone to rags and tatters.

Hakki called to Mustafa, “You must take us to the home of the British consul.” Mustafa led the caravan through quiet
streets—for it was the hour of
kef
, the noon rest hour—to a house considerably larger than its modest neighbors. A servant with a tumble of curls and dressed in a fez, shirred trousers, silk shirt, embroidered vest, and a brightly striped sash opened the door and led us into a handsome drawing room. There was a haughty quality about the servant's courtesy that suggested we were lucky indeed to enjoy his attentions. With a toss of his curls he asked us to wait while he summoned his master.

Seen from the street, the house showed nothing but a few narrow slits serving as windows, so I was astonished by my first view of its interior. The walls were hung with silk prayer rugs and the floors laid with Turkish carpets in rich colors. There was the shine of polished brass, and everywhere there were tiles decorated in bright blue. In my grimy clothes I felt out of place, but the consul, who hurried into the room to welcome us, immediately set about making us feel at home. He was a small, immaculately dressed man in his early fifties wearing a neat gray suit and an impeccable shirt with a stiff collar.

His approach to us was motherly. “You must tell me what refreshments we can bring you. When I am riding in this terrible countryside, which I do as seldom as possible, I always fancy a glass of lemonade. How would that do? And
as soon as you have had some refreshments, we'll get you baths. You look rather hot and you certainly need dusting. Now, do stop standing about as though this were a garden party at Buckingham Palace.”

He urged us onto chairs made comfortable with silk cushions and directed his servant with the Medusa curls, who hovered in the background, to bring lemonade and meringues. The latter treat seemed a wild luxury, and in spite of our worry about Monsieur Louvois I saw that we were all beginning to relax, thinking we were in the hands of someone resourceful.

“Now you must tell me your names,” the consul said. “I am Cornelius Robinson, England's humble representative in this very humble town. Was I misinformed, or was I to have the pleasure of accommodating five guests? Have you been careless and misplaced someone?”

Hakki launched into the tale of Monsieur Louvois's arrest, ending with “We hoped you might give us help.”

Mr. Robinson was distressed. “Of course I and Monsieur Potton, who is the consular agent for France, will do all we can, but the truth is our influence here is rather disappointing. It is a Turkish city, and I suspect they will be tempted to make a great deal of the matter. I don't suppose a long prison sentence is in the offing, but possibly some sort of
slap on the hand and certainly deportation and a rather heavy fine. Even a single day in a prison here is unwholesome, if not actually hideous, so we will put a stop to that. The sooner we make an effort, the better. Saladin will show you to your rooms, which I'm afraid are very modest, and I will go at once to the French consul. Any of you with influence might come along.”

Father said, “I don't have much influence—I'm only a solicitor—but I'll put in a word for Louvois.”

Edith offered herself. “I'm not sure I can do much, but the Turks will be so shocked to have a woman on the attack, it might bring them to their senses.”

The room assigned to Edith and me was small but full of charming touches. The draperies on the windows and the bed hangings were of a heavy pale-peach silk. Silken pillows in pastel colors were thrown on the bed, and on the floor was a Turkish rug in rich shades of apricot and brown. I lay down, thinking I would rest a moment or two while Edith went with Father and Mr. Robinson to the French consul. The next thing I knew was the sound of knocking. Graham was at my door.

He wanted forgiveness. “I feel a coward for not going along with the others,” he said, “but there is something about this moldering city that frightens me: Anyone might
be bought or sold here. Look what happened to Louvois. I'm afraid I could be next, and I don't have the courage to put myself in the lions' den. If they got hold of me and used torture, I'm not sure I would be up to keeping quiet about the tribes I've made contact with.”

Graham seemed truly frightened, like a small boy who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I felt a great tenderness for him and reached out my hand in sympathy or something more. He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Can I count on you to stand by me?” he said. “I feel the others on the trip would not be sorry to see me follow Louvois to a Turkish jail.”

“I'm sure that's not true, but of course you can count on me,” I said. I believed there was nothing I wouldn't do to protect Graham.

We heard voices in the rooms below and hurriedly went downstairs, to find Father, the consul, and Edith, all looking glum.

“Poor beggar,” Father said. “They've got him cooped up in a filthy hole with some cutthroats to keep him company. I've never seen anyone so miserable.”

Mr. Robinson said, “The French consul is trying the informal connections he has in the city. We went on to visit the Turkish authorities, where Miss Phillips played a part.
Quite intimidated they were by her, even allowed her a private talk with the official in charge. I believe your father did some good as well, Miss Hamilton. He also had a private talk with the Turkish official. What a mysterious group you are with all your secrets!

“Now we must have our dinner. You are all probably hungry for a meal at a table. I have never understood why people will pay to wander about in the desert and be uncomfortable. If you would like to retire to your rooms to wash up, I'll see to the cuisine.”

In my room Saladin brought warm water for our wash-stand and then bowed himself out, seeming less a servant than an actor in a play of his own imagining. “An odd fellow, that,” Edith said.

“He goes nicely with the decoration,” I said.

“A little too much the poseur for my taste,” said Edith. “I don't know where to sit or stand in this room—the carpet looks too valuable to tread on with my boots, and the pillows and draperies are something out of a harem. Whatever Robinson says, I'm afraid I feel more at home in a tent; at least there you know where you are.”

But for all her protestations Edith put on her one good dress for dinner. “You look quite smart,” I said.

“Nonsense. It's just that it's been a week since you've
seen me with my face properly washed. You, on the other hand, are quite lovely.”

I had dug out a sky-blue silk skirt-and-waist and was feeling festive. “What I really wish I could wear are those draperies. What a stunning gown they would make.”

Saladin ushered us into the dining room. Porcelain plates rimmed in gold, and knives and forks of hammered brass and silver, were set out on a gleaming mahogany table. There were thick damask napkins with patterns of leaping stags woven though them and candlesticks of cut glass. Saladin, passing the dishes, looked as amused as ever, as if at any moment he would give up the game of waiting on us and sit down at the table beside his master.

We were served grilled lamb perfectly roasted and aubergines done in a spicy sauce. For dessert there was a compote of exotic fruits, and with coffee the meringues reappeared. In spite of the excellent dinner we were all tired and relieved to hear Graham excuse himself: “I'm afraid the long journey and our concern for Louvois, to say nothing of the effect of all that excellent food, has made me sleepy.” In minutes the dinner party was over.

It is hard to keep on worrying when the worry is not about yourself, but about someone else. At breakfast, after our night's sleep, we were more lively and optimistic, each
of us with some idea of how we might rescue Monsieur Louvois. We were comparing ideas as we finished bowls of fresh strawberries, when there was a knocking on the outer door. Saladin led Monsieur Louvois into the dining room. Even in the desert he had always been carefully dressed, so it was shocking to see him unshaven and in wrinkled and soiled clothes. I noticed with surprise that he still had his case. From the way he clutched it, the precious antiquities appeared still to be there. He looked quickly about the room. “I see you have had a little more luxury than I have had.” His voice was bitter.

Mr. Robinson, all concern, was on his feet at once. “Welcome, welcome. I am delighted to have you with us. Please join us for breakfast, or would you prefer to go upstairs first and change?”

Louvois looked longingly at the table, but he said, “I must bathe and then
je regrette
I must go. I'm afraid I am persona non grata in this city, and I have no wish to involve the rest of you. I only wanted to say
merci beaucoup
for your help in having me released. I leave tomorrow from Alexandretta, and the Turks have kindly insisted on seeing me there themselves.” He gave one more envious look at the table—was unable to resist the plucking and consuming of a strawberry—then hurried away after Saladin.

Edith watched Monsieur Louvois's departure. “I'd say he was in a bit of a rush.”

“I can assure you,” Mr. Robinson said, “that after a few hours in a Turkish prison, one would wish to leave the Ottoman Empire as soon as possible. However, relieved as I am, I'm surprised they've given him his freedom so quickly.”

Before we left the breakfast table, Monsieur Louvois was back—scrubbed, in fresh clothes, and ready to depart. Even under the circumstances his leave-taking was abrupt. There were handshakes for the men and kisses on the hand for me and a startled Edith. “I am most sorry to have caused trouble for our little
famille
,” he said. In a moment his carriage had drawn up, and with a quick wave Paul Louvois, still hugging his case, was gone.

“How do you suppose he managed to get out of prison with all his possessions?” Graham asked the consul.

“There's no telling. I wish I could take some credit for his release,” Mr. Robinson answered, “but I should be less than honest if I did, and the French consular agent is a man of even less influence. I do not think money alone could have been successful in releasing him, but perhaps I underestimated the amount at his disposal. Or perhaps Louvois had something beside money to offer the police?” He paused to study us. “I don't suppose he was privy to any
particular information that might be useful to the Turkish authorities?”

“I can't think of any information he might have,” Edith said, “unless the Turkish police would be interested in a lecture on early Assyrian art.”

I could not help looking across the table at Graham. His face had gone pale beneath its tan, and a fine perspiration had broken out across his forehead. I knew what he was thinking: Monsieur Louvois had a great deal of information about him if he chose to use it. He also had information about Father. I looked at Father, but he appeared unconcerned.

“Now that you have been freed from your worry about Monsieur Louvois, let me make a few suggestions for your visit here in Antioch.” Mr. Robinson assumed the attitude of the conscientious host. Hakki looked put out at the consul's taking over his duties, Father was paying no attention at all, and Graham appeared lost in worried thought. Only Edith and I half listened to what seemed a well-rehearsed speech.

“Our village was called by Marcellinus ‘the fair crown of the Orient.' Antony married Cleopatra here. You will know from your New Testament that Peter was in Antioch, as, of course, was Paul. I don't suppose you want to view our meager industries—licorice and knives and very good soap; I use it myself.” His lecture was interrupted by a pounding on
the door. “Good heavens, what now? I've never known my place to be the center of so much excitement.”

For a moment I thought Monsieur Louvois had returned. Instead it was a contingent of Turkish soldiers whose number overwhelmed the small room. Instinctively our little group drew together. Mr. Robinson stood up from the table. “I do not know why I should put up with this trespass,” he said. This was bold of him, for the soldiers were armed and looked determined.

The
bashi
, or major, who led the group insinuated himself forward in a catlike movement. He was slender and wiry, with long sleek mustaches that enclosed his chin in a kind of parentheses, and a red line across his forehead where, before he removed it in deference to his surroundings, his fez had rested. “We regret this intrusion, Consul, but we are here to take a Mr. Graham Geddes away with us on a charge of spying.” The word
spying
terrified me, and I dug my fingers into my father's arm and held on. Father's hand covered mine.

“You must be joking. You can't do that. I'm a British subject.” Graham looked toward the window as if he might be considering leaping to freedom. I prayed he wouldn't do anything that might cause the soldiers to draw their guns and shoot him. I was terrified for Graham, but I was sure that any words on my part would only lead to more trouble.
With the greatest difficulty I kept silent, but I resolved that if the soldiers took him, wherever he was, I would find him.

In an incriminating voice the major addressed Graham. “We know of the villages in which you have sown seeds of discontent with our government and our sultan, trying to foment revolution. You were not acting then like a British subject, and so we will not treat you like one.” He grabbed Graham's arm.