by Jon Jacks
‘He also most assuredly reassured me that I would indeed be safe,’ she continued without a pause, ‘as my uncle had specifically appointed him as my personal guardian for the duration of my stay. And therefore my safety and wellbeing is entirely in his hands, Miss Debussy, not yours.’
‘Then that, at least, is something to be thankful for,’ Miss Debussy sighed, almost closing her eyes in relief and therefore unaware that she had cut of Harry’s attempt at a protest.
Lil rewarded him with a gracious if somewhat triumphant smile. On the journey out, far from informing her that he would be constantly on hand to assure her safety, he had warned her that she would probably have to remain confined to the house, as no military or police personnel could be spared to accompany her.
‘I should have no need to remind you, Captain, that you are foremost an officer of his Majesty’s forces, and it is therefore beholden upon you to remain at all times a gentleman!’
Miss Debussy sternly addressed Captain Hilary as if she were a haughty headmistress administering punishment to a wayward schoolboy. Lil had to supress the giggle she felt building in her throat.
Suddenly, Miss Debussy was addressing her in the same authoritative manner.
‘Of course, to ensure that all things take place within the bounds of propriety, I shall naturally choose someone suitable from amongst the girls making up my staff to accompany you as chaperone until the arrival of your friend, Miss Pine.’
‘Of course, ma’am; and I thank you for it.’
It wasn’t ideal, Lil realised; not what she had hoped for, at least. But a chaperone drawn from the servants? How difficult would she be to handle? (Or, if necessary, even dupe?)
Snapping smartly to attention, snapping his cap back onto his head with a smooth, practiced move, Harry apologised but said he couldn’t stay any longer as he was already late reporting back to barracks.
Lil wasn’t sure if he was just a little too eager to be off. Was he hoping that he wouldn’t be landed with accompanying her around Jerusalem after all?
As Harry turned to leave, there was a flurry of signals and commands from Miss Debussy as she urged everyone, including Lil, to move inside the house.
Lil hesitated, using the excuse that something was caught in her shoe to pause on the step, to glance behind and watch Harry leave, hoping to catch him glancing back at her.
Striding past the parked Rolls Royce, his heavy boots crunching nosily on the loose gravel, he headed towards the truck waiting for him at the gates.
Then, just as he neared the gates – he looked back.
She smiled.
He smiled, embarrassed that he’d been caught out looking back at her.
Yes, Lil thought; Captain Hilary would be calling for her in the morning.
This was going to be a very interesting holiday after all.
*
Chapter 3
He maketh them the cedars of Lebanon also to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn.
Psalms 29:6
Disappointingly, the stone that had shone with such exotically pink hues when she had seen the city from the house appeared to have been transformed into regular if large blocks when viewed from up close. Even so, it was still quite enthralling to be passing along narrow alleyways that seemed to have remained unchanged for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years.
‘It’s like a maze,’ Lil gasped in wonder, looking up at cramping walls that gave the sense that they were about to crash down on you at any moment.
‘That’s the intention, I’m afraid,’ Harry observed with a strange hint of bitterness. ‘Changes in the streets, the buildings; most of them made with the aim of inconveniencing anyone wishing to pray at the Wall.’
‘Then why don’t they change it back? I thought the Wailing Wall was in the Jewish quarter of the city?’
‘They live here, but they don’t own it. The Husseinis, the Nashashibis, and other Moslem landlord families; they own it all. They won’t even sell the Wall, no matter how much Baron Rothschild puts on the table.’
Although Lil would have been quite happy for Harry to continue with his history lesson of the city had they been walking hand in hand as they wound their way around the ancient streets, somehow it was all becoming increasingly boring listening to him explain what had happened here almost a thousand years ago, what had happened there two thousand years back; and all because, of course, it all came across as nothing more than a guided tour thanks to Mary’s continued presence.
Mary – there were just so many Mary’s weren’t there, making it so hard to differentiate one from the other? (Though the poor girl insisted, of course, that hers was the more French sounding Mari) – was the maid Miss Debussy had chosen to be Lil’s chaperone, the very same demurely subservient, pretty little thing who had relieved poor Jacques of his humiliating fish symbol.
She stared, almost constantly, at poor Harry, wide-eyed in her obvious admiration. As he pointed things out, explained their role in famous historical events – the fall of Jerusalem to the Crusaders, the destruction of the Old Temple – she would look about her in wonder, as if he were conjuring up around her real people who were re-enacting their ordained tasks all over again.
Worst of all, Harry appeared to relish her enthusiasm for his tales. He smiled, laughed, chuckled appreciatively when she asked for further details.
Wasn’t a chaperone supposed to diffidently stand to one side, to stay silent unless spoken to? Especially a maid. Especially a maid who, as Miss Debussy had expressed it, was ‘all we can spare, what with us preparing the house and grounds for any possibility of whatever mischief making these people might get up to over the next few days.’
Damn Miss Debussy!
Couldn’t she have spared one of the uglier maids, rather than this excitable little thing, with her faltering, French-accented English, her sparkling amber eyes, her bob of dark hair that jauntily swung from side to side as she glanced about her, following Harry’s directions?
Had Miss Debussy appointed Mary as her chaperone on purpose? To ensure Harry focused any amorous intentions he might have on a more expendable maid, as opposed to the niece of her employer, a well-brought up girl placed under her protection?
Lil lightly touched one of Harry’s hands, smiled, caught his eyes as she said, ‘Harry, could we look around the market now?’
‘Lil, I’m really not sure it’s safe in the present circumstances–’
‘Harry! You’re a British officer! Who in their right minds would cause any of us any trouble as long as you’re with us?’
Harry looked troubled, frowning painfully as he weighed up the chances of anything going wrong in the Moslem quarter. Yes, Lil was right; many Moslems recognised that the British administration was as pro-Arab as it could be, with most of its higher-ranking officers actively working to fulfil the promises made when they had fought together to oust the Turks. (It was rumoured that King Faisal’s ascension in Damascus had been aided by the British.) Besides, it was an administration that ruled with a relatively light touch – and no one wished to run the risk of bringing the full weight of its wrath down upon them.
‘All right,’ Harry said, ‘but we must stay togeth–’
Knowing what he was about to say, knowing that once she heard it in full it could be used to curtail her freedom, Lil excitably skipped ahead, weaving through the bustle of people who, rounding a corner, had suddenly appeared around them. She glanced back over the heads of the people she was swiftly passing, laughing, catching and relishing the anxiety on Harry’s face as he called after her and vainly tried to follow while keeping Mary close by.
The crowd was growing, thickening, and Harry was held back a number of times as he looked back to check that Mary was keeping up with him. Lil, however, lithely hopped aside whenever anyone seemed about to block her path. Seeking out gaps and paths that sometimes seemed to almost magically appear before her, she found herself moving surprisingly quickly through the noisy
throng.
She felt giddy, light headed, flattered and pleased that Harry was showing such concern for her, chasing her through alleyways that people had trodden in biblical times, trying to fight his way past people dressed as if they had stepped from the pages of the Gospels.
She looked back, looking for him once more. But he was far behind now, out of sight. All she could see was a sea of heads, every one clad in a sourly-coloured headdress, a dusty cloth.
‘Harry?’ she called out, worried now that she had gone too far, that her pristinely white dress and hat made her stand out as different, alien.
The passing people smiled, or smirked, or scowled; Lil wasn’t sure.
She decided she wouldn’t call out again. Standing up on her tip-toes, she was accidently nudged again and again, such that she was nearly sent sprawling.
Way back up the alley, quite higher there than here because it rose gently, she caught a flash of pure white amongst the milling crowds.
It snorted. It tossed its head.
It started moving towards her, passing through the throng of people, every one of whom appeared bizarrely oblivious to its presence, as if it remained somehow unseen. Even though it towered over them. Even though it was the most unusual, most magical thing she had ever seen.
It was a unicorn.
And somehow, deep inside her, she knew she should move towards it, to touch it, embrace it – yet also knew that she wasn’t ready (Ready for what? Did that make any sense?), that this would be foolish, wrong.
As if to make up her mind for her, an excited yell coming from way beyond the unicorn woke her up from her daze.
It was a policeman, standing halfway up a flight of stone steps set against one of the walls. He pointed towards her, even as he called on the aid of other policemen amongst the crowd with a wave of his rifle.
He leapt down from his step.
And he and the other policemen began to chase Lil.
*
Chapter 4
He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my high places.
Psalm 18; 33
For a while, Harry had managed to keep Lil in sight. Her white clothes, particularly her spectacularly large floppy hat, were unmistakable amongst the more soberly dressed people, many of whom had clustered around him as if with the deliberate intention of creating an obstacle course preventing his pursuit.
Then, abruptly, as she ducked around a tightknit family group, she had effectively vanished, failing to come back into view beyond the group as he had hoped.
He caught a flash of white, a swiftly moving blur, a ray from the sun striking it, highlighting it.
But it wasn’t Lil.
It was a pure-white deer.
*
The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?
Song of Songs 3; 2
‘Mary, I need to run; I have to leave you.’
Grabbing Mary’s hand, Harry looked into eyes imploringly.
‘But ma’am told me not to leave–’
Mary paused, realising how ridiculous she sounded. Miss Pine had already left them way behind. If Harry didn’t chase after her, they might not find her for ages.
Glancing over her shoulder, Harry suddenly shouted out something in Arabic, something hard and harsh like a command.
Whirling around, she saw a policeman forcibly barging his way through the crowds towards them. As Harry cried out to him, he almost froze in shock, his eyes widening in either fright or amazement; Mary wasn’t quite sure which. He shook his head, as if attempting to clear his head from an intoxicated stupor.
He nodded, yelled something that sounded like an agreement back at Harry, then smiled warmly at Mary as he drew closer.
‘This policeman and the others with him will see you safely out of the city,’ Harry said reassuringly to Mary as, taking out his notepad and a pencil, he quickly wrote down a short message that he handed to her. ‘Take the day off; go to this hotel and order whatever cakes or coffee you want, putting it on the account I have there. Don’t go back to the house.’
His eyes were still pleading for her consent. She nodded, understanding his concern that ma’am would be furious if she discovered that they had lost Miss Pine. It would be bad for her, as well as for this beautiful Englishman.
He smiled.
‘Thank you, Mary!’ He clenched her hand warmly.
Then he turned, rushing off into the madding crowd.
*
Chapter 5
Let her be as the loving hind…and be thou ravished always with her love.
Proverbs 5; 9
He couldn’t see her.
All he could see was that white hind, which effortlessly stayed ahead of him as if the crowd were constantly parting for it like a compliant Red Sea.
As he couldn’t see Lil, he followed the hind instead, sensing in some indescribable way that it was in some way connected to her, if only through the similarity of the colour of its flesh and her clothes.
Why is no one staring in amazement at the hind? he wondered. Don’t they see it?
And if they don’t see it, why are they moving out of its way, allowing it such an easy passage through them?
Fortunately, the crowd, perhaps at last sensing the urgency of a British officer passing amongst them, were also making his own way through them relatively painless. He even, at times, appeared to be gaining on the hind, until it disappeared around a corner, passing out of his view. Whenever he turned the corner himself, the hind was way ahead once more, as if it had leapt a great, unimaginable distance.
Now and again, as if he had unintentionally, unknowingly, bumped into them in his haste, someone would whirl around, stare at him in shock, even exclaim a muted cry of either anger or surprise. Harry would apologise, but he had no time to offer further redress.
On the edges of the crowd, he frequently caught sight of a policeman pointing him out and, doubtlessly recognising the needs of a British officer much as the crowd had, they would attempt to join the chase only to be thwarted by the chaotic crush of people.
Still the hind kept effortlessly ahead of him, like the details of a dream avoid you the more you wish to scrutinise them.
He swept around yet another corner, expecting to see the hind once more frustratingly farther ahead of him; but he was wrong.
The hind had vanished.
All he could see were countless heads, waves of milling people crammed into a narrow street that curved down and away from him; a sea of life flowing away from him, leaving him behind, a fish left stranded and floundering on a hot, unforgiving beach.
*
Chapter 6
A young man was following Him, wearing nothing but a linen sheet over his naked body; and they seized him. But he pulled free of the linen sheet and escaped naked.
Mark 14; 51-52
Harry slowed, taking the time to observe the houses and shops running either side of him.
Was there a thin alley he had missed whenever he had been down this street before?
Was there an entrance to one of the shops or houses that the hind – no that was ridiculous, surely? No matter how much everyone had managed to ignore the presence of the hind so far, a hind walking through a narrow, low door would have to draw attention – wouldn’t it?
But if that were so, why hadn’t he heard the surprised cry that would draw him to the hind’s hiding place?
A flash of white!
He caught it in the very corner of his eye, at the very edges of his vision.
The hind!
Maybe even Lil!
His head whirled around. He found himself looking towards a stall that spilled out onto the street, its wares virtually surrounded by a tightly bunched group of people.
The blaze of white he thought he had seen had either vanished or he had simply imagined it – no, there it was again, beyond everyone else, over by the wall.
Harry began to quickly stride over tow
ards the wall, his eyes never leaving that glimpse of white cloth, even though it meant he was rudely pushing aside anyone in his way. He was just about to cry out Lil’s name when there was a brief flurry of movement, the splash of white edging to one side, away from the shadows and covering of the stall’s crude awning, the veiling line of people opening up like tattered theatre curtains.
It wasn’t Lil.
It was a boy. A boy dressed in crisp white linen.
Then the boy slightly moved aside once again, revealing yet another burst of white just beyond him.
‘Lil!’ Harry cried out at last, a cry of relief, of happiness.
Lil looked up in surprise. Seeing Harry rapidly making his way towards her through the crowds, she smiled, cried out joyously, ‘Harry!’
They threw their arms around each other; perhaps, Harry thought, too warmly, too enthusiastically.
He stepped back, fighting back the urge to clasp her by her hands.
‘Lil, you shouldn’t–’
‘I’m sorry Harry; it was childish, silly, I know. I didn’t mean to run so far ahead – I thought, stupidly, that I was being chased!’
‘Chased? Well, I was chasing you, Lil – but only to keep you safe!’
‘No, no, Harry; I mean I was being chased by – ohh, forget it, Harry. I must have been – it must have been the heat. It’s just so unbelieving hot here! It makes you dizzy, like I’m almost on the verge of fainting sometimes!’
‘You do get used to it – well, not completely, but enough to help you get through the day.’
Harry noticed that the boy was still standing alongside them, observing their actions and conversation with what seemed to be pleasant bemusement. With an embarrassed, irritated frown, Harry spoke harshly to him in Arabic, asking him who he was.
‘I’m Azar,’ the boy replied, politely holding out his hand for a handshake from the surprised Harry, ‘and you’re Captain Hilary, I take it?’