—Confucius
Chapter 5
An Eye for an Eye
The discussion was interrupted by a clamor at the gates. They could hear shouts and the voices of men calling to one another. Every man in the room stood up immediately, their hands on their weapons. Within moments, one of the black men who stood guard at the gates to the compound came rushing to the entrance of the room where the group of men were standing. He brought with him one of the syce from the stables. After one look at the ragged and shaken man, Talon was sure he knew what had happened.
The syce went down on his knees. His turban was askew, his clothes torn and bloody. He looked exhausted and very frightened.
“Allah protect us! They have taken Jasmine, my lords!” he babbled. “They have killed the head syce who tried to stop them, and they hurt the boy!” He began to weep.
Boulos was the first to react. “What happened to the boy?” he demanded.
“They took out his eye, lord!” the man clutched his hands together, lifted his grimy, tear-stained face up to Allam and wept. The men in the room stared at him, aghast, and then at one another. “God protect us, but why did they do that, to a small boy?” Allam finally asked.
“To send a message,” Imaran ground out between his teeth. “An eye for an eye, brother. I warned you.”
Boulos stood up; he was in a towering rage. “This has to be Najem’s work. It could be no one else! Why else would the boy be made to suffer like this? He meant to have revenge, and now the boy has paid for it.” He shook his fist in the air. “Then we, too, will have revenge!” he shouted.
“We must go at once to the stables,” Imaran said. “Fetch our horses!” he shouted. Servants and syce rushed about to do his bidding. The disturbance had woken their father, who now stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Behind him was a small crowd of frightened women. He demanded to know what had occurred. Imaran explained quickly, and then followed the rest of them out to the main courtyard where the horses were waiting.
“The boy will surely need attention to his eye,” Talon said, thinking of Doctor Haddad. Reza anticipated him. “I’ll go and fetch him. I know he will come for the boy, no matter what the hour.” He galloped off without waiting. The rest of them rode post haste to the stables. When they arrived, Talon glanced across the polo field towards the villa where his family were housed. He noticed lamps were glowing along the wall. They must have heard the disturbance but had been wise enough to remain where they were until they knew what was going on.
All was chaos at the stables, with the numerous syce running about aimlessly, tearing their hair and wailing. The horses and the camels what were stabled were roaring and stamping as they too reacted to the panic all around them.
The riders hurriedly dismounted and were drawn to a small group of workers clustered about a mat, upon which lay a small figure that twitched and wailed. Allam was the first to reach the table and he exclaimed in horror at the sight. His boy Ismail was lying limp and very much in pain, a bloody rag over his right eye. Little had been done by the syce to help him, other than to lay him on some sacking. Talon noticed there were other figures lying in the dust which did not move. No one had thought to cover them or move them in the chaos.
Boulos shoved the crew aside, bellowing at them, “By God, you worthless fools! Get out of the way and stop this noise. I want to see!” The syce tumbled out of the way and fell to their knees. One of them, the oldest, a man with white hair and a greying beard, stammered out an explanation.
“They came in the dark, lord,” he wailed, waving his thin, stick-like arms about. “There was no warning, and the guards were quickly overwhelmed.” He swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple jerking. “None of us heard anything until we heard the screams of Ismail here, by which time the bandits were gone with Jasmine!” He wrung his hands and hung his head.
“None of you heard anything at all?” Boulos demanded. He sounded incredulous.
“They came on horses out of the night and knew exactly where she was stabled, lord. They were so quick!” one of the other syce muttered in a frightened tone.
“They killed all the guards,” Imaran said in a matter of fact voice. “Allam, were these real guards,” he jerked his thumb at the prone figures, “or were they just some of your servants you told to be here?”
Allam looked embarrassed, but before he could respond, Ismail began to twitch and wail more than ever. Boulos reached over and held him down. “Talon, is that uncle of yours going to come? This boy could die if we don’t help him.”
Just as he spoke, a group of people hurried out of the darkness from the direction of the villa. It was Reza, and with him was Doctor Haddad, accompanied by Rav’an. They carried torches and some small leather bags. The Doctor, looking tousled and agitated, hurried over to kneel down beside the mat. “Give me light and space!” he ordered. He was so authoritative that both were provided immediately.
Boulos and Allam issued sharp commands, and the loitering syce set to work collecting the bodies of the three unfortunate guards and calming down the restless animals. Meanwhile, Haddad beckoned Rav’an over and opened the bag that she handed to him. He took out a vial of liquid and lifted up Ismail’s head. “You must drink some of this. It will help with the pain,” he told the squirming boy.
Ismail swallowed the few drops that the Doctor gave him and then settled back, his hands fluttering with the pain. “You must not touch the wound under any circumstances,” the doctor ordered him. “I shall be treating you, and if God wills it, then you will get better, although...” He left the rest unsaid. Ismail would no longer have a right eye.
Haddad turned to Allam, who was hovering nearby. “I want him to be taken to our villa, where it is much cleaner and where I can supervise his recovery.”
Within minutes the boy was being lifted onto a makeshift stretcher and transported towards the distant villa. Rav’an, with a quick look and a nod to Talon and Reza, hastened to join the doctor accompanying the stretcher.
It was a subdued group of men who stood at the stables with the torches burning around them and discussed the event.
“It had to be Najem; this is his handiwork for sure!” Allam said angrily.
“Of that we can be sure, but now we have to find the camel, unless he has chosen to destroy her too,” Imaran snarled.
Allam gasped. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?” he asked his brother with anguish in his voice.
“Oh yes, he might. He is that kind of person. He would cut off his nose to spite his face, that man,” Boulos said.
“Do we not have recourse to the Caliph for something like this? The Caliph wants to breed her!” Allam said. He was almost wringing his hands as he saw a fortune disappearing into the sand.
“Where does Najem live?” Talon asked.
“I can show you in the morning when we go there to confront him,” Boulos informed him, “but you can be sure he will not have the camel inside his compound. It will be long gone, either into the desert or dead and abandoned somewhere. His spite knows no bounds.”
Talon and Reza glanced at on another. “We could try to track them in the morning, unless the wind covers their tracks,” Reza offered.
Imaran shook his head. “Our best chance is to either find out directly from Najem, who might be prepared to give her back for a ransom, or to find out from one of his men where they have taken the camel,” he said.
Talon again looked at Reza, who nodded. “May we come with you to the house of Najem tomorrow, Boulos?” Talon asked him.
*****
The next morning after prayers, Talon and Reza joined a small cavalcade of men and the three brothers to ride across the Northwest area of Muscat to the encampment of Najem, which boasted a small fort that could accommodate the sheik and his family and retainers, should danger threaten. Both Talon and Reza became very watchful, taking stock of the number of men around the camp, the horses and the guards on the tall walls of the fort.
The ca
valcade halted well before the camp, and waited. It was not long before a group of mounted men with two in the lead came galloping up to them, sending up a small cloud of dust behind them. They were desert Arabs in flowing robes mounted on beautiful horses, which pranced as they neared the visitors.
“Salaam Aliekom,” Imaran called out. He assumed the role of leader, as he was the eldest of the brothers.
“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” one of the men called back. “What may we do for you?”
“We wish to talk to Sheik Najem al Khulood. God willing, he is here and will see us.”
The man looked them over for a few seconds and then muttered something to his companion, who turned his horse and rode back towards the fort.
“Please honor me by accompanying me to our poor abode,” the first man replied. He swept his hand behind him and led the way back to the tented camp. The other rider had disappeared through the gates of the fort. Talon noticed that there were a many tents all around the building, some even against the walls, giving the camp a cluttered effect. Strings of camels stood or squatted in among the tents; there were also horse lines off to the side.
They were led towards a large tent, where they dismounted. Boulos told the lead syce to stay mounted and to hold their horses, then he and the others were invited to be seated on cushions in a circle on a carpet provided by their host, who called himself Sayf-ul-Mulk. Talon looked him over carefully. He had heard that Najem’s family was from Yemen, so it might be that this man was too. He carried a fine Khanjar knife tucked into the wazar around his waist in the Omani manner.
No one said anything before the tea was poured into small porcelain cups and offered. Each guest took one and sipped the bitter brew, taking small lumps of hard sugar from a bowl in the middle.
There was little small talk. Everyone in the tent knew why they were here and it would not help tempers to pretend. However, the minutes drew out to the point where Boulos let some of his impatience show on his face. Just as it seemed as though Imaran and Boulos were on the edge of leaving, which would have been a horrendous breach of manners, there was a commotion at the gates of the small fort and a group of men walked towards the tent with Najem in the lead. All the guests stood up, and the words and kisses of greeting were performed by men who loathed one another.
When the introductions were completed and they had all reseated themselves, they drew near to the subject in hand. Najem opened the discussion.
“Word has reached me that there was an incident lat night,” he said, his fierce eyes darting to Allam, who remained silent.
“There was an incident at our stables, if this is what you have heard,” Imaran replied.
“What kind of incident would it have been?”
“People were killed, and one of our people was badly injured,” Imaran responded.
Najem glanced at Sayf-ul-Mulk; it was as though there was a message there. Talon felt Reza tense near to him. He glanced out of the tent towards their two horses, where their bows were sheathed. If this became a fight he would feel a lot better with a bow in his hand, but Sayf-ul-Mulk remained where he was seated, looking unconcerned.
“I am horrified to hear this news. Allah protect us all from bandits who come and rob and kill,” Najem stated, sounding pious. He sipped his tea as though waiting. “But why have you come to me?”
“It is thought that you might have heard who carried out this heinous crime, so we are here to find out,” Boulos replied, his tone just short of an accusation.
Najem tensed, but appeared to discount the insult and said instead, “I shall most certainly put out the word of this crime, and my people will of course inform me, should there be any news. I was visiting relatives and only heard about this today, just before you came to visit me, in fact.”
“There is one other thing,” Imaran said slowly.
Najem looked up. ‘What would that be?” he asked, a look of inquiry on his sharp features.
“The murdering thieves took the camel, the one that won the great race the other day.”
Imaran had chosen his words carefully. The insult was a provocation, but still Najem refused to bite, although Talon noticed his eyes flashed and Sayf-ul-Mulk tensed, his hand creeping towards his Khanjar. Talon saw an imperceptible shake of Najem’s head, and his lieutenant withdrew his hand. The tension in the tent had gone up several notches.
“I am appalled,” Najem said, his tone tight. “Such an act merits punishment, and we shall do our utmost to assist you in finding the animal. Who could have done such a thing? God protect us all,” he wore a pious expression that fooled no one.
Imaran gave him a hard stare. “Yes, it does merit punishment, and my father shall see to it that is meted out to those who deserve it. We wish to thank you for your hospitality and we will now leave you,” he finished politely.
Najem bowed them out of the tent and then stood watching them as they left in a group.
No one said anything until they were on a low rise that overlooked the encampment, and then Boulos spat out a curse and said, “The snake! The lying snake!”
Imaran nodded his head in agreement and said, “Of course he ordered it, but then he made sure he was nowhere around when it happened.”
“We know one thing at least,” Talon interjected.
They turned to stare at him. “The camel is not at that encampment, and that is a surety. Not that it was likely to be there, but now we know for sure. However, I know someone who does know exactly where it is.”
Boulos stared at him with a scowl on his heavy features. “Who would that be? You don’t think Najem knows?”
Allam gave a sardonic chuckle. “It is possible that he doesn’t, because then he would not be lying, nor perceived to be when and if the Caliph takes an interest in the crime. Talon, is it the other man, Sayf-ul-Mulk you are thinking of?”
“Yes it is, and I am sure of it.”
Reza chimed in. “I was watching him carefully. He does the bidding of Najem in all things. Talon is right; he knows.”
“Well, now all we have to do is to go up to him and ask where he has put the camel,” Boulos said sarcastically.
“Quite right, we do have to ask him,” Talon told him, ignoring the sarcasm.
*****
Back at their own villa, Talon and Reza checked in to see how the patient was doing. Rav’an met them at the head of the stairs. She looked tired. “The boy is resting. The good doctor has given him something for the pain,” she told them.
“I am confident that the boy will live because of the doctor. God bless him,” Reza said, and smiled at Fariba and Jannat, who had joined Rav’an.
“Reza and I have to leave for a while,” Talon told them. He received sharp looks from Fariba and Rav’an. “You are not going to do anything rash?” Fariba demanded of him.
“No, my dear Auntie. We are just going back to the stables to find out as much as we can abut the incident,” Reza told them with a grin.
Late that evening, as the sun was setting in a blaze of red behind the mountains, four men rode out of the stables. They made their way eastwards towards the encampment of Najem, but they went by a roundabout route and headed for the foothills to the west of the camp, keeping it in view but far enough away as not to draw attention to themselves. They looked just like any other desert Arabs going somewhere without hurrying.
When they were due south they came to a well-used trail that led off into the range of hills. Behind these hills, one of the syce had told Talon, there was a low plateau which was almost surrounded by hills and rough terrain. Here was where many of the tribesmen grazed their flocks and herds of camels, and even horses were allowed to run semi-wild. The old syce had volunteered that this was the most likely place the thieves would have taken Jasmine, because it was here that she would disappear among many other camels.
“There is a village called Al Amarat just on the other side of the hills. You will have to pass this, and then you are in open country,” he had told them. “Find Jas
mine for us, lord,” he had begged.
Reza had put a hand on his thin shoulder. “We will do our best, Insha’Allah, old man.”
Thanking the old syce and swearing him to silence, Talon and his companions, Reza, Youssef and Dar’an, had ridden out of the stables, ostensibly to visit their hosts at their house in Muscat. They were fully armed with their bows and were covered with cloth up to their eyes.
When they came to the trail they were seeking they halted. There was a half moon in the clear night sky, which Talon didn’t like the look of, as it would hinder his work; but at least they would be able to see if anyone came out of the camp during the night. Both he and Reza agreed that it was a gamble to come here, as they might have already missed the departure of their man. They hid the horses in a gully well away from the road where their presence wouldn’t be detected by anyone coming up the trail. They set to work muffling the hooves of their animals and put cloths over their noses to discourage them from making any sounds if they heard other animals on the trail below.
Then, while Dar’an and Youssef stayed with the horses, Talon and Reza went back to a rise above the trail and lay on the ground so that only their heads were above the rise. They could just make out the fort and the encampment below them. Lamps were being lit and lights glimmered among the tents. It appeared as though the camp of Najem was going about its evening routine innocently enough.
It was a good hour before Reza nudged Talon and whispered. “Something is going on down there.”
Talon shook his head to help clear his vision and stared down into the dusk. Sure enough, there was some activity in among the tents. A rider emerged from the fort, although it was too far and too dark to see who it might be.
“They are coming this way,” Reza murmured.
“There are five of them, from what I can see. They are going slowly so as not to draw attention to themselves,” Talon replied.
They settled deeper into their cover and waited. Before long they heard the click of hooves on stones and peered into the gloom to see five riders wearing dark clothing and dark massars on their heads, walking their horses along the trail below. Talon strained his eyes to try to recognize any of them. It was hard, but the moonlight caught the features of one man he knew. It was Sayf-ul-Mulk who led the small party. He nudged Reza, who touched him on the arm. He, too, had seen their man.
The Dragon's Breath Page 7