Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (14 page)

“There
is
surely
no
suggestion
that
we
change
that
state
of
affairs?”
asked
Salem,
a
mid-ranking
uncle
of
Nasir’s,
whose
favourite
wife’s
family
were
long-time
business
partners
of
both
Firyal
and
Zahirah.
He
was
one
of
the
few
who,
suspiciously
to
many,
had
seemed
unsurprised
at
the
boy’s
entry.
The
stony
silence
from
certain
sections
of
the
room
that
greeted
his
words,
however,
told
them
all
clearly
that
that
was
exactly
what
some
intended
–
and
it
soon
got
a
voice.

“Enough
of
this
foolery!
The
times
are
too
dangerous
for
us
to
be
led
by
a
boy!”
Abdullah’s
eyes
turned
towards
the
speaker,
seated
near
him:
his
brother
Husain,
a
burly,
thickly
bearded
man,
some
years
his
junior.

“What
is
the
alternative,
brother?”
Abdullah
asked
calmly;
and,
should
too
much
space
be
given
by
the
question
and
a
rival
name
be
prematurely
thrown
into
the
ring,
proceeded
to
answer
it
for
himself.
“Do
you
yourself
wish
to
put
yourself
forward
in
his
place;
become
our
next
ruler?
And
would
you
have
the
family’s
support?”
he
asked
quietly.
“I
doubt
it;
some
would
support
you,
yes,
but
not
all.
Others
would
support
someone
else.”
He
paused
and
then
continued
quietly.
“Others,
a
number
of
others,
would
offer
support
to
yet
different
names
and
none
would
have
enough
support
to
carry
the
day
and
unite
all
factions.
We
would
then
find
ourselves
fighting
amongst
ourselves,
weakening
our
line
just
when
it
must
be
strong.
On
the
other
hand,
Talal
as
emir
is
someone
we
can
all
unite
behind,
stay
united, and
remain
strong.”

“I
myself
would
be
a
better
choice,
yes!”
Husain
flashed
back.
“But
no,
I
say
our
brother
Omar
should
become
the
head
of
our
family!”
The
whole
room
seemed
to
draw
in
a
sharp
breath
as
one.
Omar!
He
was
not
one
of
those
thought
of
as
a
contender.
Although
he
was
a
fierce
and
much
admired
fighter,
he
lacked
the
other
skills
needed
in
a
leader.
He
was
also
known
to
have
less
family
backing
than
any
of
the
five
front-runners,
so
why
was
Husain
putting
forward
his
name?

The
question
was
never
answered
as
the
name
itself
was
lost
in
the
resulting
uproar.
It
suddenly
seemed
as
though
everyone
in
the
room
was
talking
at
once,
as
if
they
were
afraid
that
should
their
name,
or
the
name
of
their
preferred
candidate,
be
left
too
long
out
of
contention
it
would
be
lost
in
the
stampede
towards
another
name.

Only
a
few
kept
silent,
Nasir
amongst
them.
He
sensed
that
the
room
was
not
yet
moving
to
any
form
of
consensus
and
so
forced
himself
to
be
silent.
Should
it
become
necessary
he
would
speak,
though
the
longer
he,
one
of
the
youngest
present,
kept
silent,
the
more
that
long
silence
would
be
noted
approvingly
and
any
words
he
did
then
utter
would
be
listened
to
with
more
seriousness
and
respect.

Eventually
Abdullah’s
thin
voice,
aided
by
the
robust
support
of
one
or
two
others,
managed
to
bring
some
order
back
into
the
room.
He
was
just
about
to
invite
further
–
orderly
–
discussion,
when
the
initiative
passed
to
another
in
the
room.

“I
do
not
believe
the
boy
should
be
present,”
said
an
elderly
man
seated
across
the
circle
from
Abdullah,
his
thin
features
clearly
showing
his
displeasure.
“It
is
not
seemly,”
he
added,
encouraged
by
low
murmur
of
agreement
which,
after
a
startled
pause,
rose
up
at
his
words.

“It
is
indeed
unfortunate,
as
to
discuss other
names in
front
of
him
is difficult”
murmured
a
younger
man
seated
near
him.

Abdullah,
expecting
the
challenge,
indeed he
had
been
expecting
it
earlier,
responded
with
surprising
firmness.
“No
more
unseemly
than
to
discuss
other
names
that
may
be
put
forward,
when
their
owner
is
in
the
room!
Perhaps
they
should
also
be
asked
to
leave!”
His
curt
tone
and
the
obvious
logic
of
his
words
silenced
both
the
speakers
and
their
supporters.

It
was,
he
knew,
testament
to
how
strong
Fouad’s
grip
had
been
on
all
aspects
of
Narashi
life
that
they
were
actually
talking
about
the
succession.
It
was
not
unusual
when
the
death
of
a
ruler
occurred
for
the
state
to
rapidly
fragment
into
bloody
skirmishing,
each
rival
fighting
like
rats
in
a
sack
for
the
supreme
prize.