Swords of Arabia: Warlord

by Anthony Litton

  He glared at her, his fury threatening to overwhelm him; but then, suddenly, he calmed.

  “You are right, Zahirah, you – we – cannot leave him. Come, I and my men will go with you.” He laughed with real humour as he added, “I just hope that when he does recover, I'm in Africa or India, anywhere out of reach of his anger at my disobeying him!”

  “Your choice is Fouad's anger or the Lady Firyal's, should you return without her son!” she responded, smiling briefly.

  “You are right. I've chosen the lesser one to fear!” he laughed, as he led her out of the compound, where they quickly mounted the waiting camels. Once clear of the village's narrow streets, the whole party raced across the desert as the dawn started to break, streaking gold across the landscape, both impatient to reach where they knew they should be.

  They paused as they reached the small hill overlooking the ruined village.

  “The fighters are still not back from chasing the al Saud,” Nasir observed, uneasy at being so far from home without the safety of the large allied force. Even most of their own Narashi warriors had still not returned from chasing the fleeing Saudis and he knew his small party was dangerously vulnerable. He sent scouts out to check there were no stray bands of scavenging marauders. Then, satisfied, he lead his party down into the village.

  Merciful Allah! was Zahirah's first thought as she passed through the ruined compound and entered the small, virtually derelict, building, Her shock was absolute as she saw her husband. It was only her years of self-discipline that stopped her giving voice to that shock. A single glance told her that Nasir hadn't exaggerated the seriousness of Fouad's condition. Although, his men had done their best to staunch the blood, it was still seeping slowly out of both his wounds. That he'd lost a huge amount was obvious by the vivid, scarlet liquid which saturated both his clothing and the makeshift bed.

  Approvingly, she saw they already had hot water and reasonably clean cloths available. Taking charge, she quickly re-cleaned the wounds and bound them up, to try and slow the blood-loss. Having done all she could she sat quietly by his side, talking to no one, her attention focused solely on the stricken man. It was almost, as Nasir thought, watching her, that she was trying by will power alone to bring him back to her.

  Fouad recovered consciousness shortly after she arrived. Seeing her, he thought he was dreaming, until he felt to coolness of the cloth she was bathing his forehead with.

  “Za....Zahirah? What are you doing here? I s…sent Nasir to take you home. There is danger for you here!”

  “If there is danger for me, then so there is for you, badly wounded as you are. My place is here,” she responded flatly.

  “Nasir disobeyed me, as have you!”

  “Indeed, we did, Lord Fouad. Indeed, we did,” she agreed, smiling a little at his anger.

  “Tell me – my wounds? How bad are they?” he asked, after a short silence.

  “They are bad, very bad; you have lost much blood,” she answered honestly. “But, I do not think they are mortal. It will be days, though, many days, before we can move you without risk.”

  “You cannot stay here. It is too dangerous; ibn Saud –”

  “Was last seen racing to al Hofuf; where, if he reaches it, he will be as hemmed in as a rat in a barrel. But enough, husband. This has already been talked of; there is no more to say. No, listen,” she added as he started to speak. “For many years, I have obeyed you in everything. I have never gone against what you wished, whatever you've wished. Is that not so?”

  He nodded reluctantly; event that slight movement giving him pain.

  “Then grant me the freedom to choose, this once; please.” She took his hand gently as their gazes met and locked.

  He nodded, again, both glad she was with him and resignedly aware that even if he'd ignored her request – her oh-so-submissively-put-request – she would have ignored him and stayed anyway.

  The next few hours past quietly enough. Fouad drifted in and out of consciousness, soothed by Zahirah's presence. Nasir grew more fretful as the allies failed to return from chasing ibn Saud. They were too deep in dangerous territory for him to be anything but increasingly uneasy with so few men at his side. He sent out scouts, a logical move which went horribly wrong.

  Towards late morning, in the blistering heat outside the coolness of the old house, the quietness of the day was suddenly broken by the sounds of many hoof-beats.

  “At last! Our men are here! exulted Nasir, hurrying to the doorway. Framed as he was within it, he made an easy target for the man who shot at him. “Merciful Allah!” he spat, springing back behind the wall.

  “Lord Nasir!” shouted a guard, ducking low and running into the house. “It's the Saudis! Many men!”

  “The Saudis! How can it be! They were fleeing to al Hofuf with half Arabia behind them!” gasped Nasir disbelievingly.

  “And how could they know of our presence here?” asked Zahirah; a quick, worried glance reassuring her that Fouad, again, unconscious, hadn't heard the devastating news.

  Nasir, barking swift orders to his men, didn't answer, immediately. He was fully focused on ensuring than his warriors, already well-placed in and around the building, didn't open fire until he'd fully discovered what the Saudi presence meant for his party. Not that he could see it as meaning anything but ill for them.

  Suddenly, however, he did know the answer to Zahirah's question. “They have Ismail!” he shouted as, peering over the lip of the broken window ledge, he saw the battered and bloody figure of one of his scouts pushed to the front of the mass of men now gathering ominously beyond the ruins of the old compounds walls. Just out of rifle range, noted Nasir automatically, as he assessed numbers. In front of the building were at least a hundred men, under the great Saudi war banner. Men at other points of the defensive ring reported similar numbers surrounding them on each side. To defend against them, he had less than a hundred all told.

  A deep silence, which seemed to last forever, descended on both sides. During it, Nasir was cursing himself for sending out the scouts. He realised that somehow the unfortunate Ismail had obviously run into a Saudi war-band. Realising the rich prize to be had, they had obviously detoured from their race to al Hofuf and ridden hard and fast to try and catch them unawares – and had all but succeeded, he acknowledged grimly.

  “Ya Allah! “ he exclaimed suddenly, as he risked another look over the decaying mud lip of the window. It wasn't just any band of Saudis outside – amongst them was ibn Saud himself!

  Zahirah looked up from bathing Fouad's forehead. His shocked face told her, even before he could find his voice again. Then, suddenly there was no more time. The Saudis opened up a barrage of rifle-fire, so strong that the defenders couldn’t raise their heads above the walls, without the near-certainty of getting them blown off. Under cover of the crashing whine of the fusillade, the attackers dismounted and, on foot, raced towards the old building and its, by comparison, pitifully few defenders.

  Zahirah, kneeling by Fouad and keeping her watchful gaze on the doorway, felt a weak pressure on her arm. She turned and saw that Fouad was conscious, his lips moving, his voice weak and thready; all but inaudible over the crashing echoes of the rifle-fire and the screams of the attacking men.

  She hesitated briefly before answering honestly. “Ibn Saud is here. He captured one of our scouts.”

  Even semi-conscious, Fouad quickly realised the danger of their situation. More urgent questions followed, asked with difficulty, the pain from his wounds almost overwhelming him, as she quickly outlined their situation.

  “And the main body of our men? They are still not here?” On the shake of her head, he grimaced, though whether from pain or in response to the bleakness of the picture he was building, she wasn't sure.

  Outnumbered almost four to one as they were, she was aware that they had little chance of surviving the next few hours. Embedded as they were, inside in a building and its surrounding low walls and mounds of debris, gave them some advantag
e, she knew. She was also aware that defenders were as often beaten by a lack of bullets as by the success of any outright assault. Their only hope was a swift return of their scattered warriors. Without them, it was inevitable that they would eventually fall into ibn Saud's hands. Their only chance was if he, himself the quarry for many searching bands, withdrew and resumed his race to al Hofuf. Chillingly, she knew that he wouldn't. Having the chance of capturing his Narashi enemy meant much too much to him and he'd expend whatever time and however many men , that it took.

  “Zahirah,” Fouad's faint voice broke into her thoughts as he whispered urgently, his hand seeking hers. “Zahirah, promise me that if ibn Saud breaks through, that I am not still alive.”

  Her mind blanked out at his words, her eyes widening in shock. Then, not for the first time in their turbulent relationship, everyone else in their vicinity became suddenly aware of them separating themselves from everyone else. It was not consciously done, this exclusion, but the outcome of their becoming totally and utterly absorbed each in the other.

  “You know what I'm asking, do you not?” he pressed urgently. “I cannot fall alive into ibn Saud's hands; the dishonour would.......”

  She hushed him by placing a hand gently over his mouth, even as her mind raced.

  Kill him! After all these years, her vow could be fulfilled! How many hours, in how many days, had she dreamt of this moment! With one bullet, or one thrust of a dagger, she could wipe out the years of shame, of subjugation; avenge her kin murdered in his vicious raid on their unsuspecting tents. Oh yes – how many hours spent in dreaming of such a moment!

  And yet...... and yet..... It would be an even sweeter revenge to not kill him; let ibn Saud overrun them, take Fouad alive. Yes, that would be the greatest revenge; the utter humiliation of a man she'd hated for over half her lifetime. That would be the most wonderful revenge of all, sweeter to the taste than the sweetest dates, the most delicious delicacy imaginable. Yes, that is the path she would tread, she nodded to herself.

  Would tread, that is, if things were as they once were; but they weren't. “I will wait until the last possible moment, but yes, should it become necessary, I will fulfil your request,” she answered quietly and without hesitation. She pressed his hand gently, fighting to stay calm, even as her voice broke with the effort of holding back her tears.

  “I kn...know it is much to ask, but, I thank you,” he sighed as, his mind at peace, he drifted again into unconsciousness.

  She turned a little as a slight sound behind her told her someone was nearer than she'd thought. It was Nasir, paying a hurried visit to see how his brother was doing, who was standing scant feet away. One look at his shocked face told her he'd overheard their conversation.

  “Zahirah! You can't! How could you agree?”

  “How could I not?” she responded simply. “You know what would befall him should ibn Saud succeed in capturing him alive. I will not let that happen to him.”

  He started to protest, then stopped, his innate honesty telling him she was right. The humiliation that would be heaped on Fouad before he was eventually, blessedly, killed, made his choice the wiser one. He nodded at last, acknowledging that she spoke the simple truth. “So be it, so be it. But should it become necessary, I..I will do it. It is no job for you,”

  “No job for a woman you mean? Fouad has already answered that charge – by his asking me. I am the one, the only one, he would wish this to be done by, and so, I will carry out his wish,” she answered flatly. She reached over and took out his revolver from its holster, where it had been placed by his bed. She checked the gun was loaded and placed it ready. “More than enough,” she said with satisfaction. I shall need only two – one for Fouad, and one for ibn Saud.”

  Nasir, watching her, thought she'd never seemed more deadly, more able to deal with anything life threw at her, than in that moment. He was saved having to say anything further by an urgent call from a warrior at the side of the house. He rushed over and saw that all the defenders there were dead or wounded and the enemy scarcely feet away from the gaping openings where windows had once been. He knew that if their men didn't return in the next few minutes they would be overrun. Their perimeter had already shrunk to just the building they were in, as the defenders behind the outer defences had either been killed or were over-run. Those few fortunate to survive had moved back into the house, still fighting desperately even as the enemy relentlessly closed in, tightening their grip yet further around their quarry's last refuge.

  The end came quickly, First one side of the building fell silent as its defenders died, then another. Nasir, one of the few left standing, quickly crossed the small room and, kneeling by Fouad's side spoke quickly.

  “Well, Brother, this seems the end. May we meet in paradise,” and leaning over he kissed Fouad's cheek. He then turned to Zahirah. “Lady, we will keep them at bay long enough for you to do what you have to do.” Standing quickly, tears barely held in check, he turned towards the doorway, just as a warrior appeared in it and sent bullets smashing into his chest. He collapsed at Zahirah's side.

  The remaining men in turn killed his attacker and precious extra seconds were given her to hold to her promise. In doing so she was honouring a man who had twice been her husband always the source of an undying hatred, become the father of her children – and, she now realised, the focus of her deep and abiding love.

  Her prayer that he would remain unconscious as she did what she had to do, wasn't answered. As she picked up the gun, he opened his eyes and smiled as she turned back to him.

  “Zahirah, Zahirah. The only one who I knew I could trust to do this for me. Yet your hand is shaking. Zahirah – it is as I wish it to be. My only regret is that I learned too late what you meant to me.”

  “No, not quite too late, husband,” she replied, smiling more gently than he'd ever seen her do before, as she continued. “We have had some joyous times of late; more than is granted to many.” Then, she answered the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Fouad, like you I found just in time what you meant to me.”

  Their eyes locked; each smiled at the other, a smile that was a mix of deep love and infinite sadness. She then put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 33

  She turned quickly as the doorway was filled with a huge figure whose commanding bearing told her immediately was ibn Saud, obviously wounded, but undeniably ibn Saud. Without hesitation she swung round and fired twice. Each time it jammed, so the Saudi Emir survived.

  Recovering swiftly from his surprise, he sharply knocked away the rifle of one of his bodyguards as he raised it to shoot Zahirah.

  “The Lady Zahirah, I think. It could be no other!” His quick gaze took in Fouad's body and the still smoking revolver in her hands. “You have taken away my revenge, Lady,” he said quietly.

  “And would have taken more had my gun not misfired,” she responded coldly, her words bringing a murmur of anger from the men surrounding the Saudi leader.

  “A wife worthy of a king!” he laughed. “Perhaps I will take you for mine!”

  “Indeed, you have the power, Lord Abdul Aziz,” she acknowledged. “But be aware, should you do so, I will kill either you or myself,” she continued evenly. Again, her words brought angry growls from the throats of the men surrounding ibn Saud; again, he waved a hand to quieten them, as he looked speculatively at her. Zahirah looked steadily back at him. As she did so, she saw out of the corner of her eye one of her attendants slowly rise and, as she did so, casually drape a discarded cloak over Fouad. She thought the girl had missed in her nervousness, then realised she had dropped it over the body of Nasir.

  As ibn Saud spoke again, she saw it move slightly as Nasir's hand moved to his rifle, inches from his shoulder. She carefully put her foot over the hand, stopping it moving further. She laughed quietly as she slowly picked up the rifle by its barrel, “As you see, Abdul Aziz, I attempt no further harm to you!” and dropped the rifle between them.

 
“I am grateful, Lady,” he smiled mockingly. “You have courage, lady Zahirah; for that I will spare you and your attendants. You may return to Narash unharmed. Take the Lord Fouad's body with you,” he added after a moment, in response to her unspoken demand. “Again, in honour of your courage, I will forgo the plans I had for it.” Then,, he turned to his guards, and in an entirely different voice, said “Take all the men outside and kill them,” as he turned on his heel to leave.

  “Am I to have no escort back to Narash?” she asked quickly, hoping to save the lives of her remaining defenders.

  “You may have two Lady, the rest die.” Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled coldly, as he continued. “Farewell. Our joy is not foregone entirely, only postponed! I shall claim you when I march into Narash!” With that he left, his loud laughter, sending dust falling from the walls.

  His men followed, all giving her one last, glowering and resentful look. The last sounds she heard from them were their rifle-fire as they cold-bloodedly killed her faithful warriors, followed by their hoof-beats as they hurriedly resumed their own flight to al Hofuf.

  She kept absolutely still until she was sure they'd gone. She then quickly moved the cloak covering Nasir and saw, to her joy, that though unconscious, bleeding heavily and breathing only raggedly, that he was still alive. She had her attendants keep sharp watch for any returning Saudis as she saw to his wounds. It was an activity, she sadly realised, that she was very proficient at.

  She then sat quietly, holding Fouad's hand, now growing colder with every passing minute, as they all waited for the Narashi force to arrive. Two hours later, guided by the surviving scout, it did reach them. Each man was stunned and grief-stricken when he learned of the death of their sheikh and of so many of their fellow warriors. Most also felt a growing guilt as they realised that their reckless chase of the Saudis had left him fatally undefended. Their realisation of their culpability had arrived somewhat later than had Zahirah's. Hers, however, would last longer in her memory and would eventually prove fatal to those who led the race away from what she saw as their duty. She let nothing of her anger show, however, as she oversaw the party's preparations to quickly return to Narash.