Swords of Arabia: Warlord

by Anthony Litton

  “Now tell us why the Lord Turki acted as he did, and who else is involved,” he said with deliberate harshness to the trembling men.

  One was beyond rational speech. The other sullenly shook his head and denied knowing anything.

  “Very well, replied Isaac, briskly, turning to the two guards. “Take them both down to the dungeons and have Mehmet question them; thoroughly and quickly,” he added, so there'd be no mistaking his intent.

  “We may not have much time, if Turki was part of anything wider,” he said in an undertone to Zahirah as the men, now both screaming, pleading their ignorance and asking for mercy, were dragged away.

  *

  All the men in the small boat were hardened both by years of battle and by the daily hardship of life in the deserts; but none had experienced fatigue like that which was now threatening to overcome them. Despite this, they pulled doggedly at their oars; none harder than Nasir himself. As well as each hard-earned stroke getting them nearer to fulfilling his brother's orders, he found that the grinding, draining, mind-numbing monotony of the oars' rhythm, left him with no time to brood on the events of just a few short hours previously. He'd seen death before, so warlike were the times, all their tribe had, but never so close. Before tonight, the enemy had always been clear and out front. Whether it was the out-riders of an ibn Saud war party, the increasingly active and even more murderous Ikhwan, or simply a raid on traditional enemy tribes, he'd always known who was his enemy, seen who he was fighting.

  Although still a boy, he'd been with Fouad when he re-took the town from Mishari nine years before, so he'd seen the family ripped apart by bloody internal rivalry. Despite that, he'd seen his half-brother's usurpation as an exception. He'd taken loyalty to his family, and to Fouad as its sheikh, as an unquestioned duty. He remembered now, with a grim smile, how he'd taken Fouad's warnings of divisions in the extended family as merely a way to strengthen what was already strong. He'd never expected, and had certainly never heard any whisperings about, serious unrest within the extended family.

  Like most of the rest of his relatives, he was not overly endowed with finer feelings, so he was not to know that the double shock at being on the receiving end of a gun, held by almost the closest of close blood kin, would never entirely leave him. For the rest of his eventful life he would always be reserved within family gatherings, always looking below the surface, behind the smiles, and when one hand was offered in friendship, always watching keenly to see what the other was doing. It was a reserve and lack of trust which was to serve Narash and its rulers well in the turbulent years ahead.

  But the exhausted young man toiling at the oars of his brother's war dhow, knew nothing of this as he and his crew ran with sweat despite the cool of the night they were rowing through. Tiredness was taking its toll of even the physically strongest of them, and that wasn't Nasir. Added to their exhaustion was the need for constant vigilance. None knew how far Turki's betrayal reached. They had to assume the very worst, which meant rowing in absolute silence whilst all their senses were alert for any approaching presence.

  Their distress was added to when Nasir called a brief rest, and they discovered that the gunfire of Turki's men had punctured some of their precious water skins, so they were reduced to half rations. This, on top of their double effort, meant more real hardship.

  So it went on throughout the long, gruelling days and nights. Minimum rest followed by maximum effort meant that each dawn rose in a cascade of golden light, with a beauty they were far too exhausted to notice, let alone appreciate. Then, on the fourth day as yet another dawn rose, so too did their spirits, as they knew that, at last, they were only a few short hours from their destination, a secluded landing place that was only a short trek to the village of their first contact.

  Reaching the deserted beach later that morning, Nasir, pushing his exhausted men to their limit, had them drag their dhow above the waterline and hide it under the shade and partial cover of the few palm trees scattered along the coastline.

  As he himself collapsed to his knees on the silvery gold sand, Nasir looked at his men, men who'd done him proud throughout the days and nights of crushing physical exertion. He saw men who were now tired beyond tired. He knew they must rest, but where and for how long? And how to get a message to their first contact a mile or so inland? Only with his help could they travel the many miles further to al Hofuf itself. Wearily, Nasir knew that he couldn't ask any of his exhausted men to travel that extra mile, so he started to pull himself to his feet, his back against a palm tree to help his stiffening limbs to get him upright. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

  “I'll go, Lord. I know the village and the house, and should anything happen, you're needed here.” The words were softly spoken by Abdul, one of the older men who'd travelled with Nasir and had seen what he’d planned to do. Searching the man's face and seeing the determination there, Nasir gratefully agreed and, once he'd set off, he and the others crashed into an exhausted sleep while waiting for his return.

  Fortunately for the weary band, this one part of their expedition went smoothly. Abdul returned before dark, accompanied by a young boy, both riding camels and leading a string of others behind them. Almost more welcome, was the food and water each animal carried. The boy, Achmed, son of their contact was to be their guide to the next link in Fouad's chain, another merchant based in a village a few miles outside Al Hofuf itself.

  Nasir and his men were astounded at both the number of camels and the amount of provisions, provided. Achmed shrugged this off when Nasir thanked him. “My Father has had dealings for many years with Umm Fouad,” he said, using the traditional form of address. “He has always admired her and found her just in her dealings.” He felt no need to add that the camels and provisions provided would be paid for several times over by Firyal over the coming months.

  “How long to al Hofuf?” asked Nasir, turning to Achmed, after they'd finished eating.

  “One day’s very hard riding, Lord,” the boy replied.

  Nasir, nodded. It was about what he'd been told to expect by Fouad, before they left Narash. With the rest that they all, other than the unfortunate Abdul, had been able to have during the hot mid-day hours, and being revived by the food and drink they'd consumed, Nasir had no compunction in ordering that they ride fast through the night.

  “I am sorry, my friend,” he said turning to Abdul, “we have no time for you to rest, as we have done.”

  The older tribesman shrugged, expecting nothing else and went to join the others, preparing to break camp.

  The riders were amazed, as they rode inland, at the increasing lushness of the land. Never before had they seen such great expanses of greenery, such large areas under cultivation. They recognised great groves of date palm, but, being children of a harsher climate, many of the other crops under cultivation were unknown to them. Quite apart from anything else, the magically different scenery provided a welcome diversion for their increasingly tired eyes as they rode on towards the final leg of their arduous journey.

  Chapter 24

  Achmed was right and towards the end of the second day's riding they neared a small village just a few miles from their destination. The boy turned to leave them, as it came into sight.

  “Our clan is not welcome here, Lord,” he explained. “I can't be seen; nor would it go well with you if it were known I had guided you here.”

  “It may be a trap, Lord,” whispered, Abdul urgently. “We should keep him with us until we know for sure.”

  Nasir, half agreed with him, but felt that to so insult someone from a family trusted for many years by no less than his step-mother was not a wise move. He merely nodded his farewell, therefore, and thanked the youth, who swiftly rode away back through the oases' green pathways.

  A few minutes more riding brought them to the edge of the small village and, following Achmed's instructions, they quietly sought out the house of their next contact. They found it with little trouble and they were glad
to see that it stood in its own mud-walled compound a little way off from the small square. Even better, they saw a small door set into a side of the wall that wasn't overlooked from either the square or any of the surrounding houses.

  Nasir was painfully aware of how they must look in their dirty clothing, made even more conspicuous by the sweat and bloodstains covering them. He knocked on the doorway, quietly but with enough urgency for it to be opened quickly by a thickset man. Black, with the deep blackness found only in Numidia, in far away Africa, he hid his alarm at their rough appearance and, in an unexpectedly gentle voice, enquired their business.

  Nasir passed him a piece of paper with one word written on it. Fouad said it was a password and would assure their contact that they were from him. The manservant ushered them inside, and left them being carefully watched by two nervous household guards in the courtyard. They travellers thankfully sat down in the shade of a large olive tree, as the manservant hurried inside to find his master.

  They didn't have to wait long. A small, portly man very quickly appeared and ushered them hurriedly inside the house. The codeword had indeed told him at once who they were from. He would honour the blood debt he owed the Narashi leader and welcome the men into his home, though he assuredly wished them elsewhere at this time. But first he had duties as a host. He provided clean clothing for them and water to wash with. When they had cleaned themselves up as best they could, they rejoined him in his main room. It was large and sumptuously furnished not only with rare rugs and luxurious cushions, but several divans after the Ottoman fashion.

  To Nasir and his party these latter looked hideously uncomfortable and they were all greatly relieved when their host courteously indicated a nearby cushioned area on the floor. Summoning food and more water, the little man, dark even by Arab standards, urged them to eat and drink their fill. Apart from his natural instincts as a host, it would also delay the moment when they asked him to do whatever it was they were here to ask him to do. Dourly, he knew he'd have to do something and, having spent years assiduously trying to avoid getting involved in the region's turbulent politics, he had no enthusiasm at all to hear the purpose of their journey, absolutely none.

  This was particularly so as recent events, entirely against his will and violating the natural caution that had not only made him rich but actually able to survive in the dangerous world of eastern Arabia, had forced his involvement to an extent he disliked. He now rather suspected that these young men were here to deepen that involvement. So, what Nasir and his fellow crewman took for exquisite good manners, his lack of probing into the bloodstains and signs of obvious hardship were merely his absolute wish not to know anything which could put him, his wealth or his family in danger, and in that order.

  Eventually however, even with his gift for extended small talk, the moment could be delayed no longer and Nasir signalled this by waving away the offer of yet more food.

  “Our thanks, Ali ben Youseff, for your hospitality and refreshment,” he said courteously. “Seldom have food and water been so welcome!” he added with a smile and without exaggeration. “But unfortunately, our mission does not let us rest and we must ask your aid in getting to meet the officer commanding the garrison in Hofuf. We have urgent tidings for him from Sheikh Fouad.”

  “That might be a little difficult. Indeed, it might not even be possible,” demurred Ali.

  Nasir cut him off with a shake of his head. “As you saw when we arrived, we have travelled far and suffered some hardship. Our mission is important, perhaps even to his survival; we have to see him and soon. We cannot allow of any delay,” he added politely, yet with unmistakeable steel in his voice.

  Ali felt extremely uncomfortable; indeed, more so than ever before. He was later to say that he felt as though he had one of the horns of a cow inserted in his anus, undeniably uncomfortable in itself, but should he move he would find his testicles impaled on the other. A choice no man should have to make, he would exclaim indignantly.

  “You must understand, Lord Nasir, that these are dangerous and uncertain times and it behoves all of us have to tread carefully and with extreme delicacy,” he said, with what he thought was a masterful display of cautious diplomacy.

  A display which unfortunately for him was, if noticed at all, swiftly discarded as duplicitous prevarication by his unimpressed guests. Though the term itself was unknown to them, living among the Bedouin, as most of them had done for many years, it was certainly a form of speech with which they were all too familiar.

  “Indeed, Ali ben Youseff, indeed,” agreed Nasir smoothly. “However, given that we have to see the commandant, I understand from my brother that you are the man to arrange it for us. And,” he added, for emphasis, “he has boundless trust in your abilities.” He paused, then added pointedly, “I would not wish to return and have to advise him that his trust was misplaced.”

  Nor, indeed, with Fouad's reputation, would the merchant, so he accepted the inevitable and agreed to give the travellers a letter of introduction to the garrison commander. He understood Fouad's wish to work through himself, rather than attempt to approach the officer directly. He fervently hoped, however, that, if things went as he suspected they would and ibn Saud actually did invade al Hasa, that his own part in siding with his hated enemy never became known to that extremely hot tempered individual..

  Reluctantly he wrote the note and, as reluctantly, passed it to Nasir.

  “Once your mission is accomplished and you've seen the Ottoman Commander, I have no doubt that you will all be anxious to return to your home,” Youseff said. He hoped the concerned look on his face masked the fact that any enthusiasm on their part to be gone, would almost match his desire to see the back of them.

  “Indeed,” Nasir said. “And we will appreciate any help you can give us to get back to the coast. I know my brother will value any assistance you can give,” he added.

  Youseff nodded his gratitude, whilst privately hoping that Fouad would indeed value his help, otherwise there'd be no point in him giving it.

  “I will have swift camels ready for when you return. Also water and food enough for the trip back to the coast and to Narash.” He waved away their thanks.

  Despite Nasir's urge to get to the city without any delay, he knew that his men must sleep off a little of their extreme fatigue, so whilst Ali was arranging transport into the city he and his men snatched a little more much needed sleep.

  Two hours later saw them awake and hurriedly eating and drinking the simple meal their host had had laid out for them. With renewed thanks and a promise to return the next day, they mounted their horses and, following the guide provided by the little merchant, they rode towards al Hofuf. Carefully keeping the animals to a walk, to avoid drawing any unwelcome, and possibly dangerous, attention to themselves, they reached their destination during the late afternoon. The fresh clothing provided by Ali meant they blended in with any of the dozens of people entering through the large gates before they were shut for the night.

  He left their horses with one of his men and ordered two others to find out what they could in some of the many souks the town possessed. He and the remaining two then strode towards the drab, nondescript building he'd been told housed the garrison offices. They walked unchallenged through its unimpressive doorway, and were immediately grateful for the welcoming coolness the building's thick walls provided. Inside, its endless corridors seemed to go nowhere except to other corridors whilst, almost as an afterthought, servicing huge numbers of drab cubicles and tiny offices. Most were empty and all were many years beyond any due date for redecoration. Eventually, by stopping and asking a scruffy young conscript, who fortunately could read the word 'Commandant' on the letter held out to him, they were directed yet further into the building. They trudged up two flights of stairs and, suddenly, everything changed. Drabness gave way to opulence and they arrived at a splendid suite of offices. Impressed as they were, their overwhelming feeling was one of tremendous relief at reaching their j
ourney's end, as they spoke to the young officer in a small office near the entry to the suite.

  The soldier managed to mask his surprise at hearing men he took to be untutored savages, requesting an immediate meeting with his superior officer. When Nasir handed him Ali's letter, however, his eyebrows did rise a little, but he made no comment. After knocking quietly, he entered an adjacent office. Thanks be to Allah! thought Nasir as the young officer closed the door behind him. We can deliver the message and leave tonight! He was desperate to return to Narash; desperate to find out if his messengers had arrive back safely and been able to tell his brother what had happened.

  Unfortunately his wishes were not to be speedily fulfilled. They waited with growing impatience to be shown into the commanding officer's presence. As the minutes went by, followed by more minutes and then yet more, their frustration grew. Nasir had had enough. He went up to the young officer, now back at his desk and asked what the delay was. The other man, obviously embarrassed, said he didn't know, but would find out. Nasir told him not to bother; he was not used to waiting for any one, certainly not someone for whom he'd come a great distance to do a great favour for. With that he beckoned to his two men and they marched towards the door which, surprisingly, opened even as they approached it.

  Whether it was by coincidence or not, Nasir was never entirely sure. Another young officer stood in the doorway and apologising for the delay, he showed them into a large, airy office, its floor covered in valuable carpets. It transpired that the commanding officer was, apparently, ill and they would see one of his deputies. This turned out to be a Turkish officer with exquisite manners and little military bearing, sitting behind an ornately inlaid desk, almost bare of paperwork. He looked up languidly as Nasir and his men were shown into his office. Scarcely keeping his eyes from what little paperwork there was, and allowing them the briefest of glances, he greeted then in flawless Arabic spoken in a bored voice.