The Boy In White Linen

by Jon Jacks

  Martha’s absence had already been apologised for, but she had more than made up for this by providing a large and sumptuous choice of meat and vegetable delicacies she had prepared earlier before leaving. As Azar and Mary brought them out, they spread then across a colourfully patterned rug they had raised slightly on a low wooden table. There was also a sour wine that, somehow, complimented the spicy food.

  The conversation was light, fun, and lacking in seriousness, Lil finding that – of all things – the most irritating thing about it all was Harry. He would constantly probe poor Azar and Mary for any details they could give him about any areas they thought might be ripe for an outbreak of trouble. She had to forcibly hold herself back from rebuking him when, in an obvious return to his suspicions of Azar, he once again rudely asked him how it was that he and his sisters spoke such perfect English, as if Harry had chosen to either deliberately ignore or disbelieve the poor boy’s previous answer.

  ‘We have always had a mix of people living in or around Jerusalem, Captain, people interested in researching and even experiencing its history; many of them wanting to feel a connection to the past that still exerts such an influence on them even today. Why, even their names, of course, are taken from that period; Andrew. James, Peter. Strange, don’t you think, Captain, that they are granted names of disciples who often meet such violent deaths? Peter, crucified on his inverted cross; the beheading of James.’

  Harry rewarded him with a grin and a nod of the head.

  ‘Thankfully, there wasn’t any disciple called Harold; although King Harold was supposed to have died with an arrow in his eye. Which, once again, is hardly a pleasant way to die.’

  ‘Well, although I’d doubt he was called Harold, Captain, there is actually a disciple mentioned in the Bible whose name we are left unsure of.’

  ‘An unnamed disciple?’ Harry paused while he considered this. ‘Surely not, Azar. That would have been noticed and commented on by now! I’m almost certain I’ve seen a list of the twelve disciples somewhere!’

  ‘Twelve disciples, Captain? But what of Judas’s betrayal? As soon as Jesus declares at the Last Supper that someone seated amongst them will betray him, Judas is, of course, no longer regarded as a disciple. And therefore another immediately replaces him.’

  ‘There’s no mention of this replacement, Azar!’ Harry protested.

  Lil was already bored with the turn of the conversation, yet, seeing that Mary the maid was enthusiastically following Azar’s argument, she herself pretended to be interested.

  ‘He’s leaning against Jesus himself, Captain,’ Azar said. ‘We read in John’s gospel that the disciple whom Jesus loved is leaning against him! And this is the very first mention of Jesus’s beloved disciple!’

  ‘But you’ve just named him yourself, Azar. The beloved disciple is John! Everyone knows that!’

  ‘Do they? There are six referrals to the beloved disciple, Captain; and not one names him! Check it yourself.’

  ‘But it’s more or less an accepted fact that it’s John!’

  ‘Accepted, Captain, yet not a fact.’ As he spoke, Azar reached beneath the rug to draw out a small Bible from underneath the low table. It had been bookmarked at a page that Azar now turned to, as if he had prepared it earlier to prove his point, as if he had known this point in the conversation would arise. ‘Where did this false assumption that it’s John arise from, but from John’s very last mention of the beloved disciple!’

  He read out a short passage from the opened Bible.

  ‘“This is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things: and we know that his testimony is true.”’

  ‘So he’s saying that he wrote the gospel; John’s gospel!’

  ‘“And we know that his testimony is true”! The writer of John’s gospel is using the testimony and writings of the beloved disciple as a base, Captain. And so we don’t know the name of the beloved disciple after all!’

  ‘But I think we can safely presume,’ Lil said drily, ‘that he wasn’t called Harold.’

  *

  Chapter 13

  My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.

  Song of Songs 2; 16

  Why had Harry and Azar gone on so about names?

  You would have thought, wouldn’t you, that Harry would have avoided any conversation that might draw attention to his own name?

  Harry Hilary.

  Hilarious – it almost made you think of the word hilarious, when you thought about it, when you said it over and over again in your mind.

  (Which, she had to admit, sadly, stupidly, she did now on a regular basis, as if saying his name somehow conjured him up into existence in front of her.)

  What were his parents thinking?

  All right, so Harry’s real name was Harold Hilary, but that was hardly much better, was it? And didn’t his parents realise it would be shortened to Harry, anyway?

  Honestly! Why had Harry been so intent on being so boring yesterday?

  Was he just under a lot of pressure, all this worry about today’s procession and everything? Why did he think the sighting of a unicorn – a beautiful, graceful creature – was somehow a harbinger of doom equivalent to the Four Horsemen?

  All she could see was a lot of excited people, running around preparing for the procession. But Harry, all he seemed to see was a massing of people intent on causing trouble.

  ‘We have to be quick,’ Harry declared for what seemed to Lil to be the hundredth time. ‘I want you two back at the house as soon as possible.’

  Mary, of course, appeared to be every bit as anxious about what she was seeing going on around her as Harry was. Like Harry, too, Mary had been shocked and angry (I mean! A maid getting angry with her!) when Lil had accepted Azar’s gracious invitation to Sunday breakfast.

  ‘What were you doing saying we’d come into the city again, Lil?’ Harry had stormed as soon as they’d left Azar’s house yesterday afternoon. ‘Sunday’s the day of the procession; it’s too dangerous for you to be there!’

  In truth, Lil hadn’t wanted to accept Azar’s invitation; she would have preferred to see more of the city. But she had felt that Harry had been so rude throughout most of the meal that she’d had no alternative but to accept his invitation, as to refuse would have seemed like yet another insult to their hospitality.

  ‘It seemed the only polite thing to do, Harry!’ Lil had retorted, ‘seeing as how you were so insistent that poor Azar had to explain to you why he and his sisters speak such perfect English! Why do you distrust him so much? What’s he done that makes you so suspicious about everything he does and says?’

  ‘There’s something not right about it all. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but–’

  ‘But nothing, Harry! I’d say you were jealous if it wasn’t for the fact that you don’t seem to…oh, forget it!’

  ‘Jealous. What would I be jealous about?’

  ‘I said forget it, Harry!’

  Even now, as they quickly made their way to Azar’s house once more, Harry continued to grumble every now and again that they shouldn’t stay long, that he was an idiot for not flatly refusing to take her when he’d picked her and Mary up from her uncle’s house earlier that morning.

  As they rounded the corner that would lead them to the increasingly crowded marketplace, Lil abruptly caught the brightest flash of purest white smoothly moving through the milling bodies: the proudly held head rising high above and shining out amongst the sea of darker, covered heads; the tossing white mane like flecks of a wave’s glistening foam.

  ‘The unicorn, Harry! The unicorn!’ Lil yelled out excitedly, pointing off towards where the crowds were swiftly parting to allow the elegantly prancing creature unobstructed access.

  ‘And there’s someone riding it!’ she added in bewilderment as she took a second look.

  ‘It’s not a unicorn,’ Harry pointed out. ‘It’s an Arab stallion; and that man riding it, if I’m not mistake
n, is Al-Aref. We have to go back, Lil; I was a fool to bring you here!’

  Lil gave him a look that said she’d need a little more explanation before she was prepared to head back home.

  ‘Aref al-Aref,’ Harry said. ‘Editor of the “Southern Syria” newspaper. Going by what I’ve read in his paper, this can’t be a good sign.’

  Mary jumped as someone suddenly appeared beside them, almost bumping into her, but immediately smiled with relief as soon as she realised it was Azar.

  ‘Azar.’ Harry nodded in greeting. ‘We have to cancel–’

  ‘Harry, we’ll be in the Jewish quarter at Azar’s.’ Lil was furious that Harry was once again trying to bring her day-out to a swift end. ‘We can pass through here quickly!’

  Azar shook his head, yet still managed to retain his warm smile.

  ‘No, Lil; Harry’s right. It’s too dangerous for you to stay. Al-Aref’s here to stir up the crowd against the Jews. Our old friends Amin al-Husseini and the Sherifians are here too, giving speeches and spreading the rumour that King Faisal and even the British want them to attack the Jewish quarter.’

  The crowd was already murmuring excitedly, Lil had to admit, the chattering and shouts growing as the mounted man began to address them. She couldn’t tell what he was saying, of course, but Mary’s increasing fear was plain for her to see,

  ‘I need to get Lil and Mary to safety, Azar,’ Harry announced urgently, taking them both by their hands and striding off towards a quieter side street leading them away from the marketplace. ‘But I need to cut through the Jewish quarter to warn them what’s happening. You need to warn Mary and Martha, tell them to leave–’

  ‘They know and they’re safe Captain. You’d be safe too if–’

  ‘No, Azar; Lil and Mary will only be safe outside the city. There are only a few Jewish police and soldiers left patrolling the quarter; most were withdrawn, when it was thought their presence would only end up aggravating trouble.’

  Lil was having to almost skip and hop to keep up with Harry’s urgent pace. His hold on her wrist was tight, painful, but she was fully aware that his real concern was her and Mary’s safety. After a few, sharp turns, they were heading through the Jewish quarter and Harry’s head was a whirl as he glanced about him in search of a policeman or soldier. As soon as he sighted one, he would bark out a few brusque warnings, briefly letting go of either Mary or Lil’s hand as he pointed back towards where they had just come from.

  ‘I’ve told them I’ll be back as soon as I can, Azar. As soon as we reach the gate, I want you to make sure Lil and Mary get back to the house safely.’

  ‘We can get back safely ourselves,’ Lil protested, angry that Harry seemed to think they were incapable of looking after themselves. ‘Azar should go back to help Mary and–’

  She stopped, realising that, like Harry, she was presuming that Azar’s protection was required to keep Mary and Martha safe. In fact, of course, Mary and Martha were probably far more capable than she was of looking after themselves in and around the city.

  Way behind them, a great cry went up from the crowd that could be heard even where they were.

  ‘Adowlah ma'ana! Adowlah ma'ana!’

  ‘“The government is with us!”’ Harry translated forlornly. ‘If they believe that, then nothing will stop them now, God help us!’

  *

  Chapter 14

  Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.

  Song of Songs 4; 11

  At the gate, Harry moved quickly, telling Azar he was depending on him, shouting out to the Arab policemen posted on guard there that they needed to get a warning back to headquarters that there was going to be a riot.

  Lil looked back at him, her eyes wide with concern. She opened her mouth as if about to say something, but decided not to.

  He reached for her, clasped her tightly to him. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go.

  Is that what she was about to say? he wondered. Was she going to tell him that he shouldn’t go back, that he should stay with her, only to realise that he would have to ignore her? He had to go back; it was his duty.

  Pulling her head slightly back away from his chest, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with what might be tears.

  Instinctively, he bent his head towards hers, his eyes closing, his lips opening, their mouths meeting. They savoured the peace, the tranquillity, of togetherness, briefly feeling a world apart, separated from all these troubles.

  When their lips parted, it was as if he had been thrown back into a noisy, tumultuous, uncontrollable world.

  ‘Lil, I have to go…’

  ‘I know, I know…’

  ‘Earlier, I’m sorry – I know you’re not a little girl anymore; I just wanted you to be safe.’

  ‘I know,’ she chuckled hoarsely through her tears. ‘I want you to be safe too. I want you to come back.’

  He smiled.

  ‘I…I…care for you, Lil!’

  Damn! What an idiot! He wanted to say it, but, for some ridiculous reason, he couldn’t!

  ‘Yes, yes; I…I…care for you too, Harry. Please please come back to me; don’t do anything stupid!’

  ‘I think I’ve done enough stupid things today!’ He grinned sadly as he let her go, stepped back, quickly turned to Azar. ‘Azar; get them home – safely!’

  Azar gently curled an arm around Lil’s waist, guiding her as she began to draw away from Harry, her pleading eyes still on his. Other people were moving between them now, the chaos at the gate’s entrance increasing as more gathered there, clamouring to be allowed into the city but being stopped from going any farther by the police.

  ‘Harry! Harry! Tell them to let me in!’

  The voice, a man’s, hard and aggressive, came from off to Harry’s side.

  Looking that way, he saw Sidney, standing beyond the policemen, his face almost covered by his headdress.

  ‘You know we’re needed in there, Harry!’

  With a slight nod of his head, Sidney indicated the sharp contours of a rifle hidden beneath his robes. The men next to him had equally hard faces, men who were undoubtedly with him, undoubtedly also armed.

  Harry almost gave the order to the police to let Sidney and his men inside. Yes, they would offer protection to the Jews – but they would attack the Arabs, using their guns, perhaps making an incendiary situation even worse.

  He was also in two minds about asking a number of the police to head back into the city with him. But if a riot broke out, whose side would they take?

  Besides, they obviously had their orders to stop anyone entering the city if – as with Sidney and his men – they looked like they were there primarily to cause trouble.

  He just had to hope that there would be enough men inside to contain the riot until reinforcements arrived.

  He turned away from the scowling Sidney. And, breaking into a run, he headed back into the city.

  *

  Chapter 15

  When the jug has a hole,

  stop it up my dear Liese

  With what shall I stop it?

  With straw my dear Liese

  Heinrich und Liese, Bergliederbüchlein (c 1700)

  Lil stared apprehensively out of her opened window towards the walled city.

  In the evening sun, the wall’s pink stones glowed with deep hues of red.

  Blood red, Lil thought.

  What was happening to Harry in there?

  Why oh why had she been so stupidly angry with him this morning?

  He had only been trying to keep her safe. He had been right about the danger she had put them all in.

  She had been flattering herself how that she was now a young woman when all the time she had been behaving like a spoilt little girl.

  There was a knock on the door behind her.

  ‘Come in.’ Lil shouted back towards the door, knowing it would be one of the maids with the drink of wa
ter she had asked for after leaving the dinner table only a few minutes ago.

  With a squeak of dried hinges, the door opened. Mary stepped into the room, holding before her a silver tray on which had been placed a jug and a glass.

  ‘Your water, Miss,’ Mary said demurely. ‘Should I put the tray on the table?’

  ‘No, no; bring it over here please,’ Lil answered, pointing down towards the window’s large wooden sill that she had been sitting on before Mary’s entrance.

  ‘Mary,’ Lil said uncertainly as the maid bent alongside her to lay the tray on the sill. ‘I’m sorry, Mary; I mean, about how I’ve been with you, over the last few days. I’ve behaved – abominably!’

  ‘Miss?’ As she straightened up once more, Mary gave Lil a puzzled look. ‘I never noticed Miss; honestly I didn’t.’

  Lil smiled gratefully. She knew that Mary was lying, but she was lying to save Lil from being ashamed.

  Being a maid, Mary was probably used to being treated rudely by more fortunate, more privileged people like herself. It didn’t mean, however, that Lil’s treatment of her was in any way more excusable.

  ‘Before you came in, Mary, I was thinking how, well, I’ve been acting like a spoilt little girl, haven’t I?’

  ‘Not that I’d noticed, Miss.’

  ‘I think you notice an awful lot more things than you’re letting on, Mary,’ Lil chuckled warmly. ‘You seemed a lot more aware of what was going on in the city than I was, for a start.’

  ‘But I had an unfair advantage on you there, Miss, as I’ve been into the city many times.’

  ‘Still, I should have respected that experience, Mary; just as I should have respected Harry more.’

  ‘I don’t think the Captain thinks of it that way, Miss; if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Mary blushed, curtsied sharply and awkwardly, wondering if she had been too familiar, gone too far.

  ‘There’s no reason to feel you’ve spoken out of turn, Mary!’ Lil laughed. She reached up and behind her neck, undoing the clasp of her necklace. ‘Here, there’s something I’ve decided you deserve more than I do.’