The Sleeping Sands (37 page)

‘That is a kind offer, Colonel,’ answered Layard, ‘however, it is imperative that I return to the place where I was captured. First, though, you must tell me how it was that I was rescued from my captors.’

‘Ahem,’ coughed the Colonel, with a hint of embarrassment, ‘I am afraid that they were not exactly captors Mr Layard, but rather rescuers. They were my men.’

‘Your men!’ exploded Layard. ‘What in God’s name were they doing falling upon me in the dark and bundling me into a sack?’

‘Caution was necessary, Mr Layard,’ said the Colonel, soothingly, while holding his hands up in a placatory gesture. ‘The country where you were discovered was in a state of uproar. Following a bandit raid on the city of Shuster, the Governor of Isfahan had sent out patrols. We could not risk any British forces or yourself falling into Persian hands – nor do we wish to upset what is a very sensitive diplomatic balance between our two countries. My marines were forced to act in the strictest secrecy. When they found you, you were wandering alone in the desert, barely recognizable as an Englishman. You were exhausted and feverish; dressed in blood-spattered outlandish apparel and filthy. My men assumed that you were in a very high state of distress and decided to restrain you for your own safety and in order to avoid detection. I am afraid that they had very little choice but to act so, if we are to carry out our instructions.’

‘Instructions,’ echoed Layard, ‘What instructions?’

‘Direct from the Admiralty Office. Our orders came with the steamer
Nitocris
- you probably saw it moored at the dock. We were to find and rescue you from whatever peril you were in; to re-supply you and give you whatever immediate assistance we could to ensure your wellbeing and surrender you to Her Majesty’s Navy, who will provide you a passage to India forthwith to circumvent the now extremely dangerous territories of Persia and Afghanistan. From there, Mr Layard, you will have no problem in resuming your journey in comparative comfort and safety.’

‘These orders came from the Admiralty, you say?’ asked Layard.

‘Directly,’ smiled the Colonel proudly, ‘along with this letter for you, Mr Layard.’

The Colonel handed Layard a sealed letter. He broke the seal and read it.

‘Barrow!’ he hissed. ‘Of all the interfering-‘

He turned to the Colonel.

‘I am sorry, Colonel Hemmell, there has been a mistake. Apparently my Aunt, not having heard of my whereabouts for some time, has conceived an erroneous idea that I am in some sort of danger and require rescuing. I am afraid nothing is further than the truth. I am at an important stage in my antiquarian investigations and must return to them. I also must return to my hosts among the Bakhtiari people to ensure no misfortune has fallen upon them in my absence.’

‘I am sorry, Mr Layard,’ said the Colonel, politely, ‘but our orders are most clear. We are to re-supply you and hand you over to the
Nitocris
. From thence onwards you will be in the care of Lieutenant Selby until you reach India.’

‘But I must return to Persia,’ argued Layard. ‘Arrange transport on one of the Arab boats for me and I will inform Lieutenant Selby that I no longer need his assistance.’

‘It is not that simple, Mr Layard. Relations between our Indian forces and the Admiralty have been a little strained of late. It would not do for an officer of the Company to ignore a direct order from Sir John Barrow – not at all. I am afraid that I must hand you over to Selby as instructed.’

‘Well, then I will simply tell Selby to steam up the Karun and drop me where I was seized by your men,’ blustered Layard.

‘I think you will find Lieutenant Selby as anxious to carry out the Admiralty’s orders as I,’ observed Hemmell. ‘Besides, he is under very clear orders to do nothing to provoke Persia to an act of war – and sailing a heavily armed steamer into a Persian river would be a significant provocation indeed. The best you might hope for is for Selby to allow you to return to Baghdad with him – but I suspect strongly that he will be indisposed to anything other than his original orders.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ argued Layard, ‘ I must return to the Bakhtiari at once.’

‘From what little I know of them, you are well rid of them. In Bushehr, where I was based, they have a well-founded reputation as bandits and cut-throats. I believe that they were behind the recent raid on Shuster.’

‘They are a proud and noble people, Colonel, and their recent raid was nothing more than a well-founded attempt to rescue hostages who had been most treacherously abducted by the Governor. In fact, you would do well to put your forces to work in assisting them in their struggle against the Persian authorities.’

‘I fear that you are too sentimental about these nomads. They are godless and uncivilized barbarians to a man. We have numerous reports of Persian officials and even European travellers falling foul of their brigandry.’

‘They could be effective allies,’ insisted Layard. ‘Why not make a strategic alliance with them? With your help they could re-take their territories and hold them permanently against the Persians. It would give you the opportunity to establish a British stronghold in Isfahan and open up trade routes to the mountains and beyond. Their chief, Mehemet Taki Khan, holds Britain in great respect and has often spoken to me of his desire to open up trade and diplomatic relations with our government.’

‘Her Majesty’s forces are not in the habit of making alliances with robber-barons,’ replied the Colonel haughtily. ‘We may have experienced a temporary setback in our relations with Tehran, but, at the end of the day, the Persians are a civilized and cultured race – unlike your Bakhtiari rabble. Their futile and ill-conceived resistance to the Shah’s forces will do nothing but bring instability to Isfahan. We need order and stable government in place so that we can do business with the legitimate authorities. I will certainly do nothing to aid and abet this warlord against the Governor.’

‘But there are rich opportunities for trade among the Bakhtiari,’ pressed Layard.

‘If your tribesmen wish to trade with the British, then that is all fair and good,’ replied the Colonel. ‘They may bring their wares to us at Karak and we will trade with them on the same terms we trade with any of the other Arab pedlars who come here. However, we will not set one foot on Persian soil to assist them in an illegal campaign; nor will I permit you to return among them to give any false impression of British sympathy to their cause.’

He stood up and paced to the door.

‘The desert sun can take its toll on a man, Mr Layard,’ he said, opening the door. ‘Amongst the barbarism of the East, sometimes he can forget who and what he is. Let me remind you, Sir, that we are British and civilized men. We will continue to do our business with other civilized men. The time of these mountain bandits is fading. Your Mehemet Taki Khan is like an old wounded lion, lashing out in his dying throes. Take care that you are well clear of him, lest you are caught in the violence of his passing.

‘Now, Sir, I feel you need to return to your rest. I will inform Lieutenant Selby that you will be joining him shortly. I fear that you are a little contaminated by your time among the Bakhtiari savages, Mr Layard. It is probably for the best that we forego any lectures.’

‘Pompous fool!’ fumed Layard, pacing angrily around his room.

More than an hour had passed since his audience with the colonel and he still could not bring himself to sit.

‘Ah, some people require a second or third encounter before they complete such an analysis of the character of our esteemed Colonel,’ laughed Dr MacKenzie, pouring a generous glass of arak for each of them. ‘Here, try some of this, it will calm your nerves.’

Layard gulped greedily at the proffered drink.

‘He sees no benefit at all in aiding the Bakhtiari, Doctor,’ he continued. ‘How can he be so blind as to think that the Governor of Isfahan is a cultured man and Mehemet Taki Khan is a bandit. I can assure you that it is completely the opposite. I have spent months with the Khan and his family. He is a noble man and a friend to the British. I need your help to persuade the Colonel that he should use his forces to assist the Khan against the Matamet – why, with the
Nitocris’s
guns too at our disposal, we could even help the Khan mount an attack against Shuster and drive the Governor’s army out of the region completely.’

‘You are possibly right, Mr Layard,’ nodded the doctor, ‘but I fear that Colonel Hemmell will not be swayed. He has his orders and no power on Earth will divert him from following them to the letter. Nor would he take up arms against the Governor of Isfahan. The good Colonel longs for nothing more than the day when he can return to his house and gardens in Bushehr; just as soon as our mission in Tehran can be restored.

‘Besides,’ he added, recharging their glasses, ‘I am afraid that it would do little good even if he were to be persuaded. A dhow arrived today with Ch’ab Arab traders from Fellahiyah.’

‘Did they bring news of the Khan,’ asked Layard eagerly.

‘I am sorry, Mr Layard but your friend was captured. He is now at Shuster; a prisoner of the Matamet.’

That evening, Lieutenant Selby proved as deaf to Layard’s pleas to be returned to the Karun as Hemmell. Nor did he give a moment’s consideration to Layard’s suggestion that he use the
Nitocris
to attempt a rescue of the Khan. On the contrary, he was most insistent that the steamer set sail at the earliest opportunity, to minimize the potential provocation that its presence might have so near to the Persian Border and to carry out his orders of moving its troublesome English cargo as well clear of harm’s way as possible.

‘We sail with the tide at noon tomorrow,’ he informed Layard. ‘I will send a man at eleven for your gun and other belongings. Please make sure that they are ready.’

The next day, at the allotted hour, a sailor arrived at Layard’s quarters to collect his baggage. Just as he was gathering them up, Dr MacKenzie entered the room.

‘Mr Layard,’ he said pleasantly, ‘I have just heard from the Ch’ab dhow that they are about to leave. I thought perhaps that you might want to send some sort of message – or other small item,’ he smiled, ‘to your friends in Fellahiyah. I can point the boat out to you, if you require.’

Layard nodded.

‘Leave that,’ he said to the sailor, who was in the act of shouldering his pack and gun. ‘I don’t trust all these Arabs hanging around the dock not to rob me of it. I will see to my baggage personally. I have an errand to attend to and will see you at the dock in half an hour.’

So saying, he took up his pack and gun and left the bungalow, accompanied by MacKenzie.

Half an hour later, Lieutenant Selby hailed MacKenzie, who was taking a leisurely stroll along the dock beside the
Nicrotis.

‘Doctor’ he called, ‘have you seen Mr Layard? We are due to leave soon.’

‘Why yes, I have,’ replied the doctor. ‘I saw him a few minutes ago in discussion with some Arab traders. He is headed this way, but I fear is a little encumbered with his baggage.’

Selby turned and barked an order at one of his men who was sent scurrying to help Layard with his gear.

The man wound his way through knots of Arabs and British soldiers clustered around the steamer, cutting through the busy makeshift bazaar that had sprung up around the docks since the British force’s arrival. He turned a corner around a large pile of rolled carpets to where the Ch’ab dhow should be moored.

The dhow was gone from the dock. Nor was there any sight of it on the water. The sailor could see nothing, save for a small pile of well-made European clothes neatly folded on the edge of the dock.

*                      *                      *

Rather than return with the dhow to Fellahiyah, Layard paid the Arabs to drop him at a small settlement on the Karun, a few miles south of where he had last seen Saleh. Here, for a few tomans, he was able to purchase a good horse and supplies. Thus equipped, he rode at once to the rendezvous point. There was no sign of the Lur. If he had avoided capture by the Matamet’s men, by now he had doubtless given up all hope of Layard and made good his own escape.

Layard spurred his horse on, retracing the steps of his mad flight from Shuster. He put all fear of encountering the Governor’s patrols from his mind. All he now cared for was to find out whether the Arabs’ tale had been true – that the Khan was in the Matamet’s power. As his horse’s hoofs drummed on the dry ground, he recalled the stories he had been told of the Governor’s predilections. He recalled how he had last seen what was left of the Ghûlam Imaum Verdi Beg at his feet in the Governor’s palace in Isfahan. No matter what fate awaited him in Shuster, he was resolved that by any means at his command he would free his friend from the Matamet.

*                      *                      *

In Shuster, Manuchar Ali Khan squatted on his divan, plucking plump juicy olives from a blue porcelain bowl and pushing them greedily into his distended face. A functionary entered, bowing repeatedly as he approached the Governor and dropping to his knees before him.

‘A signal from the mirror-tower, Your Excellency,’ he stammered.

His mouth full of olives, the Matamet mumbled something that approximated to ‘Well, what is it?’

‘The Englishman has been spotted, Your Excellency,’ the official answered, ‘He is dressed in Arab robes, but our look-outs recognized him. He is heading for the city gate. Shall we arrest him?’

The Matamet pursed his feminine lips and spat a stream of olive pits at the prostrate functionary.

‘No, leave him be. I imagine that Mr Layard wishes merely to visit his erstwhile host. It is only good manners to permit him. He should witness first-hand how magnanimously I have treated my enemy.’

‘Your mercy knows no bounds, Your Excellency!’

‘Quite. It will be good for Mr Layard to learn that very fact.’

*                      *                      *

Layard found Mehemet Taki Khan with ease. He was not challenged at the city gate and soon received directions to the house where the Khan was under arrest. It was a large stone building, in better repair than most Shusteri dwellings. The long corridors and rooms were dark and provided a refreshingly cool relief from the burning midday sun. The building was generally well-kept and clean and, although heavily guarded, gave none of the impression of a prison. In its outer rooms were garrisoned a company of serbázes and a Ghûlam, who had been assigned care of the Matamet’s prisoner.