Swords of Arabia: Warlord

by Anthony Litton

  The story had the effect it was intended to and numerous would-be thieves rapidly changed their behaviour. Many others who heard the tale had some sympathy for the unfortunate traveller. There were, however, almost as many others who felt that he'd brought his misfortune down on himself by his foolish honesty, coming, as he did, from a society which saw casual theft as not only enjoyable but almost a cultural duty.

  Fouad's secret conversations with other powerful tribal sheikhs of the region complete, he lead his forces rapidly back to Narash. He knew that whatever ibn Saud's intention for the rest of the eastern region were, he would have no intention of long leaving the Narashi leader, or any of his family, in power.

  As fast as they travelled, word of the tremendous victory had travelled even faster, and Fouad and his men received a rapturous reception as, exhausted but jubilant, they appeared in front of the great gates of the town. Their attempts to ride through the town itself were hindered by the huge crowds roaring and cheering their joy and relief. Like many in the region, they had memories of the fierce Wahhabi who supported the al Saud, and had little wish for their more easy-going eastern ways to be changed by that austere and intolerant creed.

  Fouad smiled as he saw the very happy face of Ali ben Youseff in the crowd. The slippery merchant had moved to Narash rather hurriedly several months before. His years of bribing local officials had paid off and he'd been warned just in time to hurriedly activate a long-time escape plan. He fled al Hasa scant hours ahead of bin Jaluwi forces arriving to arrest him. On his arrival he'd assured Fouad of his long time wish to work alongside his Narashi allies against the foul al Saud aggressors. That he didn't mention that he'd chosen Narash only because it was much nearer to the much safer British protected Kuwait, seemed only sensible. Himself safely in Narash, he, of course, hoped his family could join him in due course.

  The fat little merchant wasn't aware of it, but Fouad knew not only that he had actually salted much of his wealth in Kuwait in case Narash should fall, but he also knew almost exactly how much. He was unconcerned; merchants would – must – go where they saw both safety and profit. The Narashi leader was wise enough to know that as long as Youseff and his ilk stayed in Narash, their presence would, in itself, encourage confidence from the rest of the population.

  At last Fouad and Nasir, at the head of their jubilant fighters, reached the palace where Zahirah, Firyal and Talal were waiting to greet them on the steps. Dismounting, they both greeted them formally, before they all entered the palace and their greetings could be less formal, more joyous.

  In the years following, those who survived the next few months were to look back on them as a curious time; a time of contradiction. Fighting raged across most of the eastern region as ibn Saud fought relentlessly to keep what he'd taken. He fought against both previous allies and those who would never, willingly, accept his overlordship, so it was far from a time of peace. Yet, for some, it did bring some temporary respite. Despite the very real threats to Narash's existence, the situation was no worse than it had been for many years. Firyal's health, though still not good, got no worse; Talal continued to grow, as boys do, and Fouad, slowly but surely, involved his young heir in the mysteries of ruling. Like Nasir, Talal found himself stunned by the complexity of what was required to hold onto power. He proved a fast learner, however and Fouad and his son grew increasingly close and were rarely seen apart. Zahirah, as ever, ensured he also spent time with all the other children, both theirs and Mohammed's. This meant that the cold, austere man found himself beguiled as he allowed himself, at last, to become a father in the full sense of the word. As a family, they were coming, at last, to accept the loss of Mohammed. It had taken them many, many months but now they could often think of him with some happiness. It had been a long and hard journey; one, they'd found, of life's most difficult.

  In the meantime, along with Isaac and Nasir, Fouad continued the building up of Narash's strength, so he had very few hours for himself. Those he did, he ensured he shared them with Zahirah. Both reserved and fiercely proud, neither showed what each felt for the other; if indeed, they felt anything beyond a cool, mutual respect. Occasionally, Firyal and others saw what could have been a flash of something deeper, but they were never sure. Not that it mattered, Firyal thought to herself, time will allow whatever they shared to be shared openly between them, and was content to watch quietly.

  “It seems that we may be about to talk peace with the al Saud,” Fouad said, his face unreadable, as he handed them the letter he'd just received.

  “Could our allies decide that, without our views being sought?” Zahirah asked in surprise.

  “No and they haven't. The Emir suggests we meet to talk about it, even to invite the al Saud to be present. It would be on the clear understanding that any or all of those involved could leave the talks at any time. He feels the time may be right to resolve everything with the al Saud.”

  “It has been almost half a year now since we rode to Artawiya and won at Jarrab and still the al Saud are struggling to hold al Hasa and the East. They can’t battle us for ever, not with the Hashemites threatening their western borders,” observed Firyal, quietly.

  “The al Saud will never make peace with us!” spat Nasir. “Nor us with them!”

  “You are right, I think,” Fouad replied calmly, “but such talks can sometimes lead to new thinking on old matters. If not that, they are still a means of buying more time; in itself a worthy aim,” he mused. “But we are talking of some weeks ahead. Let us now look at this matter of your proposed journey,” he continued, turning to where Zahirah and Firyal sat across from him. “You feel it vital that you travel there yourselves? Could not ben Youseff act on your behalf? He still has many contacts in the area? Or one of the other merchants, if he felt it unwise for himself to travel there?”

  Both women shook their heads. “It is because we relied on merchants that our troubles started!” Firyal answered drily. “It is as it was with Zahirah and the pearling captains. Because we dealt through menfolk in Al Khayawi, they see us only as weak women! They feel they can take advantage of the present troubles and lie to us, saying that our increasing losses are due to raiders of our caravans, and not their fat greedy fingers!”

  “With a strong guard we should be safe and most of the lands we pass through are those of our allies,” added Zahirah.

  “And ibn Saud doesn't wage war on women,” Firyal commented.

  “Even so, the wife and the mother of one of his greatest enemies, would tempt him, would it not? With you both in his hands he would have strong weapons for use against me!”

  “He need not know the caravan is anything but an innocent trading one, and, in any event, it would be only Zahirah travelling, not I,” Firyal replied. “I am a little too frail for such journeys now, my son,” she ended sadly. Her adventurer's spirit railed against her growing weakness, but she well knew that the rigours of even a few days travel would be too much for her weakening body.

  Not by the smallest flicker did Fouad's face show the relief he felt at his mother's words. A large part of his reluctance to agree to the journey arose from fears about her failing health. He agreed with Zahirah that there was little or no risk from ibn Saud, even if he discovered her presence outside the safety of Narash. This was particularly so as the village and trading centre that she intended to visit was only a few miles from Kinzan, amongst whose palm groves the inter-tribal gathering was to be held. His troops would, therefore, be near should any threat to her arise. So, he was content to give his approval. If the truth be known, he had little willingness to refuse her wish in any event. He was finding it increasingly hard to deny her anything, a fact he was careful to conceal from her.

  “Very well. Take Nasir as captain of your guards. I would travel with you myself, but I have affairs here to deal with before I leave. I shall attend the meeting of tribal elders at Kinzan and I shall meet you on your return journey, when you have dealt with the unfortunate merchants of Al Khayawi!”


  Chapter 32

  A few days later, Zahirah and her caravan left the town and headed south. Nasir, at the head of a strong detachment of guards, rode with her. He was to see her safely to her destination and then join Fouad and the other leaders at Kinzan.

  Fouad, himself, travelled a week later and rode swiftly down the coast to the meeting place of his Ajman and other allies. He had little real hope that any meaningful peace would emerge from the gathering, but had no intention of being absent from a meeting, any outcome from which could dramatically affect Narash.

  The day after his arrival, however, his concern grew sharply. Throughout the next hours, and despite talks beginning shortly after ibn Saud had arrived, hard on the heels of one of the Ajmani clans, Fouad felt his unease growing. Although the Saudi leader had indeed arrived, as agreed and his tents had been pitched in an adjacent palm grove, something felt out of place. Fouad knew enough to trust his instincts, so warned Nasir and the rest of his men to be on their guard as the day went on. His concern wasn't lessened when he saw that Sa'ad, ibn Saud's younger brother, was present. He was no friend of the Ajman, Fouad well knew, never forgiving them for what he saw as their betrayal six months earlier. That he had even less love for the Narashis was also well known, so he was a man very much in need of careful watching.

  Leaving much of the talking to the other chiefs, Fouad continued to watch the two brothers as the day wore on. Ibn Saud's face never lost the appearance of one genuinely concerned at finding a way to peace with his 'brothers the Ajman' and their allies. Never, by so much as a flicker did he display any of the anger he must have felt at their defection at Kinzan which, truth be told, was only the latest in a long series of anti- Saudi moves, by the proud eastern tribe. Any who didn't know the wily Saudi leader would have been lulled, even charmed, into letting down their guard; a mortal mistake many had made early in the al Saud's warlike past. Fouad knew better than to be so lulled. Had he felt the slightest weakening it would have been quickly stifled by glancing at Sa'ad's face. Not as skilled as his brother at concealing his true thoughts, every now and again the polite mask of negotiation slipped to expose a glittering fury very much at variance with the soft words being spoken.

  “The talk is of peace, but I sense something underneath that is not as it should be?” remarked Fouad to a prominent chief, as the day wore on.

  The Ajmani leader shrugged. “Perhaps, but let us see where we are when these talks are finished.”

  “Do you think ibn Saud is genuine in wanting peace?” Fouad asked the older man.

  “I doubt it – but, perhaps, neither are we,” the elderly sheikh replied cynically.

  Fouad nodded, smiling coldly. He also felt peace didn't figure in any one's plans, except, perhaps, in the shortest of short-terms.

  The talks, such as they were, continued throughout the day. Then, at last, toward the end of a particularly drawn-out and wearisome round of exchanges, it appeared progress was, at last, being made. Peace, it appeared, was achievable after all. Just before dusk, an agreement in outline was reached. It was then decided that both the detail and a formal treaty agreement, would be finalised in a face-to-face session the following day.

  Fouad and Nasir, were both still uneasy and left the subsequent feasting early. They were anxious to ensure their men were both rested and prepared for whatever should happen in the remaining hours before they left the camp. They were very much looking forward to leaving the talks, meeting up with Zahirah and heading for the safety of home with all speed.

  Then, in the early hours, their premonitions proved justified. In the depths of the night, the sleeping camp was jolted fully awake by the sound of gunfire and the yells and screams of fighting men. Nasir, hurrying to Fouad's side, saw that the deeply shadowed spaces between the grove of date palms separating the two camps, was swarming with armed men; all running from the Saudi camp and already over-running the fringes of the allies’ encampment.

  “Ya Allah! We were right! The treacherous dogs have betrayed our pact!” spat Nasir as he swung up his rifle, rarely far from his side, and sent a stream of bullets into the ranks of running men. Savage delight swept through him as he heard several anguished screams result. There would be plenty more he vowed, as his troop rallied to him and they spread out and started to take a heavy toll on the attackers. Despite the heavy gunfire from all parts of the allies camp, however, many Saudi fighters broke through and Fouad and his other men slashed and hacked in the same fury as Nasir.

  Taken unawares as they were, the Ajmani and their allies came close to being defeated. Slowly, however, very slowly, they began to get the upper hand. In the darkness, absolute under the palm trees, with the only light the flash of their rifles, men fought with grim ferocity. In the end this cause or that went from men's minds; only survival mattered. For many on both sides it was a vain hope.

  The attackers were relentless, even when they felt themselves losing. Man slashed at man, the darkness making it almost impossible to distinguish friend from enemy. This uncertainty added an extra edge of desperation as the Ajmani, in their anger at what they saw as a betrayal, slaughtered many on the Saudi forces

  Then, suddenly, the attackers nerve broke and they turned and fled. With a great cry of jubilation, the entire allied force surged after them, determined to finish the issue once and for all. Fouad and his men were, as ever, in the forefront of the race. It was they, therefore, who faced the brunt when after several miles, a large body of the enemy suddenly stopped and, far from fleeing, turned and stood fast in the path of their pursuers. The clash was savage and the killing on both sides ferocious. Fouad, saw Mamduh, his brother, fall and ran to his side, savagely slicing his sword deep into the entrails of a warrior leaping over Mamduh's body.

  He didn't feel the knife enter through his ribs; not at first. It was partly due to his body shutting down with the shock, but more to do with the bullet that simultaneously, smashed through his back, deep into his lungs.

  “Fouad!” Nasir's frantic shout sounded strangely muted to his brother, who, even as he turned to try and answer, collapsed on the ground.

  The fighting was nearing its end in a blood-soaked rout of the Saudi forces as Nasir and his men surrounded Fouad in a protective ring of steel. Guards stood watchfully as he and others carefully loaded him onto a makeshift stretcher. Around them, hundreds of riders swept past them, all intent on pursuing ibn Saud's fleeing forces; each man hoping to be the one to capture or slay the Saudi warlord. Unaware of what had happened to their leader, large numbers of Narashi warriors also stayed with the race.

  Taking extreme care after the night's betrayal, Nasir and his remaining men rode away from the action into the wilderness. They eventually took refuge in the ruins of a small village, left empty after some fighting of many years previously, its mud walls already crumbling back from whence they came.

  As they moved him into a derelict building surrounded by the remains of a small walled compound, Fouad regained consciousness. “Zahirah!” At first his brother thought he was crying out for her in his delirium, but, seeing him, Fouad plucked at his sleeve. “Zahirah! She may be in danger. Go with your men; take her home; ride swiftly, she must be safe.... must be safe,” he gasped, collapsing back onto his makeshift bed.

  Nasir started to protest, but Fouad cut him off. “She must be safe! Go!”

  Reluctantly Nasir obeyed and, with half the men, rode hard to Ras Kawiya. Though uneasy at leaving Fouad, he agreed with him that ibn Saud, having been savaged in last night's battle would be in no mood to show courtesy should he find that Zahirah was so near. Even if he didn't, the whole area was in blood-soaked turmoil, and would soon be alive with scavengers, dangerous men with little to lose and fewer scruples to hold them back.

  Though it was yet scarcely dawn, he arrived to find her seated with her attendants, already deep in conversation with a number of worried-looking merchants. On seeing him enter the building she'd converted into a temporary meeting chamber, she court
eously adjourned the meeting.

  “What has happened?” she asked as soon as they were alone.

  “Ibn Saud played us false, is what's happened!” Nasir replied bitterly. He quickly told her of the peace discussions and of ibn Saud's sudden attack the night before.

  “Have no fear; Fouad has sent me to escort you swiftly back to Narash as we cannot rely on how you'd be treated following last night.” He turned to lead her to the swift camels he'd already had harnessed. She didn't move.

  “Where is my husband? Why did he not come himself, if things are so

  dangerous for me?”

  “He couldn't leave; he still has much to talk about with the Ajman,” Nasir, a poor liar, said hurriedly.

  “Where is Fouad? Truly?” she asked again, still not moving.

  Nasir tried again, but was no match for Zahirah and quickly gave in. “I knew you'd not be taken in by that story. He's safe; badly wounded, but safe. He cannot be moved, the wound's too severe, but he's safe, safe,” he repeated.

  As though saying it twice, would make it so, she thought. “My husband is helpless, wounded, and he expects me to flee homeward without him?” she shook her head wonderingly. “How little he knows me, even after all these years. Take me to him,” she ordered, moving at last.

  “I cannot, Lady. Fouad's orders are clear. I must get you to safety.” To his surprised relief she agreed.

  “Indeed, you must obey Lord Fouad,” she agreed quietly; then paused. “I shall travel without you,” she added, moving to leave the room.

  “You can't; you don't know where he is!” he said desperately.

  She stopped, turned and looked calmly back at him. “Then I shall ride into every village, climb every dune, ride along every wadi between here and where he is, until I find him. But I will not leave him helpless!”