by Maha Akhtar
It was just past the evening prayers and Auda was in his tent. It was simple and didn’t have much inside, apart from a carpet, a few cushions, a couple of small, colorful leather stools and a low table. On a small brass table next to him was a tray that held a terracotta jug and several small cups. Relaxing, leaning back against the cushions, Auda was smoking a narghile, his blue eyes staring at the water bubbling at the bottom of the pipe. He was wearing a white tunic, tied at the waist with a thick, multicolored cummerbund, in which he carried a dagger. He wore a short brown sleeveless jacket over his tunic, across which he wore two crisscrossing leather bullet holders.
“May I, Sheikh?” Lawrence pulled up the flap of the tent and stuck his head inside.
Auda’s face brightened. “Tell me something good.”
“I have someone for you to meet,” Lawrence said.
“If it’s not a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, I’m not interested! It’s just not that easy to meet a beautiful woman anymore,” Auda complained with a mischievous grin, “especially not here in the Hejaz.”
Auda turned his intense blue gaze on Rabih and Salah.
“Allow me to introduce Salah Masri and Rabih Farhat, Sheikh. Salah was the chief engineer for the Hejaz Railway and Rabih was his architect. They are going to help you continue harassing the Turks.”
“Yes indeed …” Auda took a long drag of his narghile. “It is one of my favorite pastimes. Come in, come in!” Auda got up and warmly greeted Salah and Rabih. “Let’s get you some nice cold water to drink.”
While Auda was being hospitable, Lawrence opened a map of the Hejaz and smoothed it out on the carpet.
“Sheikh, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to get to work.”
“Rush, rush, rush!” Auda teased. “You’re always rushing, Lawrence. Let us humor the Englishman, shall we, brothers?”
They all sat down in front of the map.
“Right, now here we are,” Salah began. “And here, between Mudawarra and Ma’an, Sheikh.” Salah made a little circle on the map with his index finger.
Auda rubbed his chin.
“This building … ,” Salah said, pointing on the map, “is where the Turks keep ammunitions and supplies as a backup for Aqaba … and these tracks here are rounded …”
Auda listened carefully as Salah and Rabih laid out the plan for him.
“What are our orders, Sir?” Charles asked Lawrence as they saddled up the camels.
“Auda is going to gather the tribes here, and while we await the official green light for Aqaba, we want to make the Turks believe that the Arab Army and the British forces are headed to Syria now and that we are targeting Damascus or Aleppo instead of Aqaba.”
“And is that what we are going to do, Sir?” Charles mounted his camel.
“Yes … besides being a reconnaissance mission.”
“It will be a good way to find out if the troop concentrations and supply lines have remained somewhat similar to the information I stole a year ago,” Salah added, strapping the belt tightly around his camel’s belly.
“Agreed. Besides, Faisal also wants to know how many of the tribes further north he can count on,” Lawrence said.
“So if I understand you correctly, if the Turks believe that the Arabs and British are going north, it will make them reinforce their troops in the Syrian province and will leave the Hejaz lean?” Rabih asked.
“That’s right.” Charles nodded.
“Is there a garrison at Aqaba?” Rabih asked.
“Not really.” Charlie shrugged. “It’s a small village as you know. But the Turks keep a three-hundred-man garrison at the mouth of the Wadi Itm just in case there’s an attack from the Sinai.”
“Although didn’t the British Navy shell Aqaba?” Salah asked.
Lawrence nodded. “And,” he added, “last year, they landed a marine platoon ashore, but I think they decided that a sea attack was impossible.”
“There are no beaches there to land the ships,” Charlie interjected. “No harbor.”
“Now … ,” Lawrence said, changing the subject, “how do we drop our first hint to the Turks about Damascus being our next target?”
Riding on the back of one of his camels and with another in tow, Hammoudi approached the Turkish garrison at Wadi Itm, a shattered chasm of red and black rock on the outskirts of Aqaba, facing the desert. A group of soldiers was sitting around a campfire.
Hammoudi whispered to his camel and she made a low-pitched “nuuuuur” sound and spat.
“Have you no manners, spitting like that?” Hammoudi slapped her rump.
“Hey! Who’s there?” One of the soldiers around the fire got up and came toward the camels.
“Hold your fire.” Hammoudi raised his hands.
“Dismount the camel … slowly.” The soldier aimed his rifle at Hammoudi.
“Who are you?” the Turkish soldier shouted.
“Hammoudi.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I live in the desert.”
“This is the Turkish garrison. You have no business being here.”
“Sorry. I was trying to avoid Auda Abu Tayi’s camp. There was a lot of commotion there.”
“Really? What’s that wily Arab up to?”
“He and that Englishman, the one they call Lawrence of Arabia, are planning a big attack with the Arab and British Army on Damascus.”
“What?” the Turkish soldier choked. “Damascus?”
“Or maybe Aleppo.”
“Are you sure?” the Turk said, wide-eyed.
Hammoudi nodded.
“You!” the Turkish soldier pointed at one of the others sitting around the fire. “You take over here. I have to deliver this news to the camp.”
Much later that night, in the early hours of the morning, four camels set out in single file from Auda’s camp, padding softly on the sand dunes, heading north into the Negev Desert.
May in the Negev was almost unbearable. As much as they could, they traveled by night and rested by day.
“It’s lucky you know the wells and oases in the area,” Rabih said when they stopped on the first night next to a small pool of water.
“Yes, it does come in handy.” Lawrence chuckled, taking off his headscarf. “Charles!” he called out. “Anything?”
“I think our little trick worked.” Charles came and sat down, taking a long drink of the cool water that was fed from somewhere deep inside the earth.
“Are they following?”
“Someone is,” Charles confirmed. “They’re about three hours behind us.”
“Do you know who they are?” Rabih asked, taking a piece of bread out of the backpack he was carrying.
“Bedouins probably,” Charles said.
“Why wouldn’t they send their own?” Rabih asked.
“Because no one, apart from the people who live in the desert, are really prepared for it,” Lawrence told him.
“Besides, the Turks still have a few Bedouins on their payroll,” Charles added.
“Think they’ll be a problem?” Rabih took a bite of bread.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Lawrence said.
“They might try harassing us, but won’t do much more than that,” Charles said.
Charles was right. They had a couple of minor skirmishes with the Bedouins following them, but they were no more than scare tactics to put them on edge and, a few days later, they reached Gaza.
“We’re still several days from Damascus,” Charles commented. They were sitting in Matouk, a small restaurant popular with the soldiers.
“I was thinking the same,” Lawrence agreed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Salah said, “the more time we take, the more convinced they’ll be that Damascus is the real target.”
“Well, well, well,” they heard a voice behind them.
All four turned around to see Musa Nusair
smiling down at them.
Salah jumped up first. “What are you doing here?”
“Marhaba, brothers!”
“Sit down, please! Pull up a chair!” Salah beckoned him. “Waiter! We have one more in our party.”
“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked.
“I’m on my usual rounds.” Musa stuffed his pipe with tobacco. “I’ve got some cargo I need to get to Ahmed Pasha in Beirut.”
“Are you sailing to Beirut?” Salah suddenly sat upright in his chair.
“Yes, tomorrow morning,” Musa replied. “Why?”
“Can you take us?”
“What?” Musa asked.
“Us … the four of us?”
“Why do you want to go to Beirut?” Musa said loudly. “Sorry … ,” he said, immediately looking around to see if there were any unsavory characters lurking.
“Beirut first and then on to Damascus,” Salah’s voice boomed loudly.
Musa looked at him oddly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Hejaz with Faisal?” he whispered.
“Diversionary tactic.” Charles winked. “We want the Turks to think that we’re the advance team for Faisal’s army marching into Syria. We want them to take their eyes off Aqaba.”
“But won’t they arrest you as soon as you get in?” Musa asked.
“Not if they can’t actually find us.”
“You want to go into Turkish Syria? Have you lost it? How do you expect to get in and out?”
“Very, very carefully!”
Charlie winked, grinning.
Chapter Sixteen
Noura came downstairs to the first floor, her daughter in the crook of one arm and a bag on her shoulder.
“Tante Saydeh, would you mind looking after Siran for a little while?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m going to be working at the British Army barracks today.”
“I wish you would reconsider.” Saydeh sniffed, taking the baby from Noura. “I don’t think it’s proper for you to be working there in the middle of all those men.”
“Tante, I’m enjoying what I’m doing. And they are paying me very well.”
“Were you not happy with the work we were getting for you from the souk?”
“I was, Tante,” Noura said. “And please, I am very grateful. And I’m still doing it. But I don’t think there’s any harm in expanding the business.”
Saydeh shrugged.
“Who knows where this will take me?” Noura said. “Perhaps one of the officers’ wives will have me make something for her?”
Saydeh pursed her lips disapprovingly.
“Well, I had best get going or I will be late.”
Noura looked at herself in the mirror as she put on her headscarf. She put on an abaya, but then with a defiant lift of her chin took it off and left it on the chair. She was wearing a new skirt and shirt she had made for herself and she wanted to show it off.
Outside, she walked briskly toward the Al-Hussein Mosque, where she took the tram that dropped her off at the entrance to Gezira Island. It was an easy walk from there to the British Army barracks on Zemalek.
She slipped into a bench on the tram and slid down toward the window. It was a cloudy day, but she still loved looking at the wide, tree-lined boulevards. Two men got on at the next stop. Noura glanced at them and then turned her attention back to the road. One of them came and sat down next to her. And from the corner of her eye, she saw the other one sit directly behind her. The man next to her was carrying a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string that he held under his arm.
At the next stop, the same two men got off the train. Noura thought it odd, but shrugged it off. A couple of stops later, she gathered her bag and got up to leave. Her foot accidentally hit something. She looked down. It was the same brown paper package that the man sitting next to her had been holding. She bent down to pick it up. There was no name on it. She turned it around, wondering what it was. It’s probably a book or a box. As they approached her stop, she handed it to the conductor and told him that it belonged to a man who’d been sitting next to her and that he’d gotten off a couple of stops before.
The tram slowed. Noura waited on the exit step until it came to a complete halt. Just as she stepped onto the street, she heard an odd hissing sound. She turned around. Suddenly, there was a huge explosion and Noura felt herself thrown to the ground. Fire, smoke, and debris engulfed her. She tried to keep her wits about her, but she couldn’t. The last thing she remembered was the pain that shot through her entire body.
Come to Cairo immediately. Noura badly hurt.
The Tree of Life left Gaza as soon as Salah received the telegram. It was decided that Lawrence, Charlie, and Rabih would continue on to Beirut and wait there for Salah.
Salah was ashen when they pulled into port at Suez.
“Courage, brother.” Musa squeezed Salah’s shoulder.
“It’s all my fault, Nusair.” Salah covered his face with his hands. “They went after her because of what I’m doing. First my friends, my mother, and now the woman I love. This is too close, Nusair.”
“Come … let’s get to the train station.”
At the British Army hospital, Salah was immediately escorted to Noura’s bed.
“What happened, Doctor?”
“A bomb exploded on a tram.”
Salah’s heart dropped into his stomach. “How bad is it?”
“She was getting off the tram but she was caught in the peripheral blast,” the doctor said.
Salah clenched his jaw in anger.
“She broke two ribs and her right arm, and her right hand was crushed by someone who fell on top of her. There were burns on her face and body. She was badly bruised from the fall and there is a nasty gash near her spine that we are monitoring. We don’t know how deep it is yet. I’m hoping there is no nerve damage to the spine. If there is, she may not be able to walk. But she was luckier than all the other people on the tram. At least she’s alive.”
Tears appeared in Salah’s eyes. He took a deep breath to hold them back.
“It’s all right, Mr. Masri. Would you like a moment before you see her?”
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Salah said. “This was such a shock.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was. She is in there,” he indicated the room.
Salah swallowed when he saw Noura. She was lying back against the pillows, her eyes closed. She was wearing a white hospital gown. Her arm was in a cast, her forehead and chin were bandaged. There were cuts on her cheeks and dark black shadows under her eyes. How dare they? His anger rose. Erdogan will pay for this.
Salah went to her side and looked down at her, gently caressing her hand.
She turned her head, opening her eyes with difficulty, and smiled.
“Noura …” Salah’s voice was gruff with emotion.
Softly, she squeezed his hand. “Not now, Salah.”
Without letting go of her hand, Salah pulled a chair forward. “Noura, this was no accident.”
“Salah, please.”
“They have crossed the line,” he said angrily.
“Everything will be fine, Salah. All this will heal.”
“I almost lost you, Noura.” Tears appeared in Salah’s eyes and he bent to kiss her hand.
“It’s not that easy to get rid of me,” Noura said.
“I will find the men who did this,” Salah said, his voice steely.
“Salah, I am really sorry,” Noura said, “about what I said before you left.”
Salah shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but Noura silenced him. “No … please, let me finish.” She took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Salah. I have behaved so badly, so selfishly toward you. And I don’t understand why, because you are the man I love. I think it’s just that I have been so afraid of losing you.”
“I understand, Noura. Please … don’t think about it. It’s all in the past. Just get better. That’s all I care about.”
“I fee
l awful, Salah. I never meant to hurt you. It would just be too much to lose you and Khaled within a year.”
“I know and I understand.”
“Do you really forgive me, my love?”
“Of course! Why would I not?”
Tears appeared in Noura’s eyes. “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have a man like you in my life.”
“I cannot believe how lucky I am to have a woman like you in love with me.” Salah smiled.
“Salah, please make sure that Tante Saydeh and Siran are safe.”
Salah nodded.
“Noura … ,” he began, “as soon as I finish what I have promised Faisal and Lawrence, I am getting out. I swear it to you.”
Salah spent the rest of May and early June in Cairo looking after Noura as best he could and making arrangements to ensure that his mother, Siran, and Noura were properly looked after, before heading back up to Alexandria, where Nusair was waiting to sail to Beirut.
He tried to convince his mother to move into a house in the British Army compound, but Saydeh refused to move from her home, insisting that the Turks would have to kill her before she left the El-Khalili. So Salah had Magdi organize a round-the-clock close vigil on the house, and Fatmeh moved in temporarily to help Saydeh care for Noura when she came back home from the hospital.
Ahmed Jemmal stood in his office, hands clasped behind his back, staring out of the tall French windows at the city that was still at his feet.
“Sir …” His secretary coughed discreetly.
“Colonel Erdogan is here.”
“Masri has just arrived in Beirut, Pasha.”
“What is he up to?” Ahmad Jemmal said, stroking his moustache. “Don’t let him out of your sight, Colonel.”
Erdogan nodded.
“He is currently with Lawrence and the other two in a café in Hamra.”
“Good. Arrest them for spying. Hang Masri and his architect for treason and throw the English in jail. Who do they think they are? Going up against the Ottoman Empire.”