She pulled the blue sheet up to her chin and smiled, glad now that she had come, even if it did mean she’d have to milk a camel.
Chapter 14
The following morning Kumar met with Youssef Abedi to discuss the situation in Bir Chagga and the possibility of uniting the desert tribes.
Abedi confirmed what Rashid had told Kumar about the sheikhs of the ruling Bedouin tribes. “Amin Elmusa is undecided,” he said. “But I have a feeling he will be the easiest to convince. As for Abdur Khan...” Youssef tugged on his earlobe. “We must go cautiously. He will go to whatever side will be most beneficial to him. It doesn’t matter that Abdu Resaba is his country, he will sell his oil to the highest bidder and side with whoever he thinks has the best chance of winning the war.”
“And what of Nasir Ben Fatah?” Kumar asked.
“That son of a camel!” Youssef’s face hardened. “He would sell his soul to the devil if he thought it would bring a profit. He’s done business with Azrou Jadida in the past, and he will again if the price is right. If war comes you can count on the fact that he will side with whoever offers him the most.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“It will do no good.”
“Nevertheless, I must try. When can we see him?”
Youssef tugged on his other earlobe. “First we should talk to the other two, Amin Elmusa and Abdur Khan. Their camps are no more than five miles apart and roughly twenty miles from here. Perhaps if we can tell Ben Fatah we have them on our side, he will capitulate. If we ride out at dawn tomorrow we should reach Elmusa’s camp by late afternoon. I’ll send a messenger ahead to say that we’re coming.”
He offered a hookah to Kumar and when Kumar shook his head, Youssef lighted the water pipe, and after he had puffed for a few minutes in silence, said, “We’ll spend the night with Elmusa and the next day we’ll see Sheikh Khan. After that it will take us another day to reach Ben Fatah’s camp.”
He lay back on the pillows and puffed on the pipe for several minutes before he said, “It could be dangerous. Ben Fatah has no love for your father, nor for you. I am thinking that perhaps after we leave Khan you should return here and let me go on alone to see Ben Fatah.”
“Absolutely not. I have no intention of letting you take a risk while I ride for safety. We go to the camp of Ben Fatah together.”
“As you wish, Kumar. But every second we are there you must watch him the way the snake charmer watches the cobra. Do not turn your back on him lest you end up facedown on the sand with a dagger in your back.”
Once again Sheikh Abedi drew in on his pipe. “Tell me what the situation is in Bir Chagga.”
“Things are quiet at the moment, but there’s the smell of danger in the air. There haven’t been any more demonstrations or riots, which seems to confirm the fact that Sharif Kadiri was behind them.”
“I met him once, years ago. He talked of insurrection even then. I know he’s a good military strategist, but I never understood why your father wanted him in his cabinet.”
“It was a mistake.”
“A costly one. Kadiri and Ben Fatah are birds of a feather, vultures who care nothing about their homeland. If they are in this together, coconspirators who will fight with Azrou Jadida, then we will need all of the men we can get to fight against them.”
“If all goes well on our trip we will have them.”
Youssef puffed hard on his pipe. “There is something I should tell you, Kumar Ben Ari. I have heard rumors that Kadiri has a price on your head. He knows that soon your father will step down and that once he does you will rule Abdu Resaba. His thinking is that with you out of the way he can march on Bir Chagga and become the head of the country.”
“He’s mistaken,” Kumar said angrily. “Even if something should happen to me, my father will continue to rule Abdu Resaba as he always has. My father is a good man, Youssef. He’d never let Abdu Resaba fall into the hands of a man like Sharif Kadiri.”
“Inshallah.” Youssef leaned farther back into his pillows. “I have known your father for many years, Kumar. He is my friend and I know what you say is true.” He puffed on the water pipe and a smile softened his features. “I was with him the day he met your mother. He had come from Bir Chagga on a caravan trip. He and the men he was with had planned to stop here for only a day or two before they went on.
“The night he arrived he met your mother. She was veiled of course, but even veiled it was possible to tell that Zenobia was beautiful. She was seventeen and he was twenty-four. I think he fell in love with her that first night. He didn’t leave as he had planned. At the end of the first week he asked Zenobia’s father for her hand in marriage and when her father gave his consent, Rashid asked, though it wasn’t the custom, that she, too, give her consent.
“They were married three days later, and when he returned to Bir Chagga, she went with him.”
Youssef looked at Kumar and his red-lidded eyes were serious. “You see, even though your mother was a Bedouin and your father was not, they were of the same faith, the same Arabic blood. That is as it should be, as it must be. It is not right that our blood mix with the blood of the infidels. Remember that, my boy.”
“You speak of my woman,” Kumar said, trying to hold back the anger from his voice.
Youssef nodded. “She’s very beautiful. I can understand your interest in her, but you must remember that she is not one of us. Enjoy her while you are here in the desert, but know that when you leave it must end.”
He had told himself exactly that, but the words were hard when they came from the lips of Youssef Abedi. Because he could not speak of her to Youssef, Kumar rose.
“I’ll take my leave of you now, sir,” he said, “so that I can prepare for our departure tomorrow.”
“If I have offended you, I’m sorry.”
“You have not offended.” Kumar paused at the opening of the tent. “Until tomorrow,” he said.
He didn’t go back to his own tent, but went instead to the edge of camp where he could be alone with his thoughts. The old man was right, of course. When the time came for him to take Josie back to Bir Chagga, it would be the end of their relationship. That’s the way it had to be.
And yet...
Last night with her had been more than he had dreamed lovemaking could be. For a long time he had lain with his naked body pressed to hers, and when he could stand it no longer he had awakened her. She had come willingly into his arms, all warmth and softness and sweet scents. And when he had joined his body to hers she had met his passion in a way that had taken his breath.
Afterward, when they lay spent in each other’s arms, it had been like coming home, like finding shelter after a storm. It had been so much more than sexual release, it had been like finding another part of himself.
* * *
He returned to their tent to find her taking a bath in a round tin tub.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” she said when he pulled back the curtain that hid her from view. “Zaida brought it in this morning after you left. A little while ago she and I filled it with buckets of water from the pond.”
Kumar didn’t speak, he only looked at her.
“What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He knelt beside the tub and took the washcloth from her.
“Kumar...?”
“Shh. Let me do this for you.” He soaped her shoulders, her back and her breasts. He lingered over the tender peaks, rubbing and teasing them between his fingers. He drew the soap bubbles out to a point and leaning close blew them away.
“Darling?” Her voice was husky. “Oh, darling.”
That word. That one word. Darling. It made him feel like a king. Like a man.
“Lie back,” he said. And when she did he touched between her legs, first with the cloth, then with his hands.
Her eyes drifted closed; he could feel her tremble.
The water was cool, but she was warm. Soapy soft as he stroked his fingers round and round
the triangle of curls. Round and round her heated core, and glided a finger so easily inside. Circling, circling.
“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please.”
He took her hand and helped her out of the tub. He dried her, and when he finished he knelt before her and leaned his head against her belly.
She touched the top of his head. Her legs were trembling.
He brought her closer and kissed her in that most special of places, kissed her with his lips and his tongue. Kissed her until her legs began to tremble and she had to cling to him for support.
When it became too much she struggled against the hands that held her, but he wouldn’t let her go. Though she cried out he cradled her until with a smothered scream her body stiffened and shook with a passion that left her helpless in his arms.
Before she could recover he laid her on the Persian carpet and with a cry of need plunged hard into her. It was fast, it was fierce, and when it was over she clung to him, too spent to speak.
He stroked her to calmness. And tried not to think of how it would be when the time came to let her go.
* * *
They left before dawn. Kumar, Sheikh Youssef and Saoud, along with a retinue of twenty of Youssef’s best men.
The air was refreshingly cool and Kumar felt invigorated, full of life and health. He loved the desert and the feel of a fine horse under him. But that was only part of it, of course. The other part was Josie and the way she made him feel.
This morning, in the dim light of the lantern, he had looked down at her. She had been asleep, her hair spread like a fan over the pillow, one soft roundness of breast exposed, one bare leg stuck out from the sheet. And though they had made love only an hour before he had wanted her again.
No woman had ever affected him the way Josie did. No woman had ever roused this kind of need in him. He wasn’t sure he liked her having this much power over him. It was something he needed to think about.
* * *
Sheikh Amin Elmusa was a small, skinny man, who looked as though he hadn’t the strength to climb onto a camel. But looks were deceiving; he had four wives and twenty-three children.
He welcomed Youssef and Kumar into his tent with much bowing and scraping and ordered one of his wives to serve their tea. The woman, when she came, was at least twenty years younger than Amin and obviously quite pregnant.
With a proud smile he patted her belly. “This one will be number twenty-four,” he said.
They drank their tea and he asked about the situation in Bir Chagga.
“It’s quiet at the moment, but there will be a war,” Kumar said. “I’ve come here to unite the desert tribes into a fighting force, so that when the time comes we will march on the city as one unit.” He hitched forward on his pillow. “How many men do you have, Sheikh Amin?”
“Almost a thousand.”
“Good,” Kumar said with a nod. “My father has been your trusted friend for many years. Now he is asking for your help.” He took a sip of the hot, sweet tea. “The United States has been a friend to us and we want to continue supplying them with oil.”
“Azrou Jadida also wants our oil. They will pay more than the United States.”
“For how long?” Kumar asked. “They’re a small country, and warlike. Who knows what will happen there next year or the year after that? The United States will continue to buy your oil year after year. Why take a chance on a few extra dollars for a short time, when you can be assured millions of dollars for years to come?”
Amin stroked his thinning chin whiskers. “There is something in what you say, Sheikh Ben Ari. I will think about it and in a week’s time you will have my answer.”
Two of his other wives served them. Both of them were in varying stages of pregnancy. When they had finished eating, wife number four appeared to serve their coffee. She, too, was with child.
“No wonder he is skin and bones,” Youssef said when he and Kumar were alone. “He’s so busy keeping his women pregnant I doubt that he’ll have time to fight with us.”
“Even if he doesn’t, he’ll order his men to fight. I think we can count on him, Youssef, and if we can convince Sheikh Khan when we see him tomorrow, we’ll have a fighting force of almost three thousand.”
“With my men you will have another thousand,” Youssef said.
“And if Ben Fatah joins us we’ll have at least five.”
“Do not count on Ben Fatah,” Youssef said. “As for Abdur Khan... Well, tomorrow we shall see.”
* * *
Khan was, as Kumar’s father had told him, as wily as a fox. He advanced, he retreated. One moment he seemed about to accede to their wishes, the next moment he hesitated.
He fed them well and that night he entertained them with dancing girls.
But he refused to say whether he would or would not join them in their fight.
The following morning they left for the camp of Sheikh Nasir Ben Fatah.
* * *
Ben Fatah was six feet tall. His shoulders were broad, his stomach was round. In his black-and-white striped robe, he was a massive figure. His eyes were as small and black as a raven’s. The three-day growth of beard did not hide the deep lines that ran from his nose to his mouth. He wore a belt around his black-and-white striped robe. There was a jewel-handled dagger in the scabbard that was strapped to his waist.
“Marhaban,” he said when they rode into his camp. “Welcome to my home, Sheikh Abedi. And you, Sheikh Kumar Ben Ari. Come, let us go into my tent. You’ve had a long journey and I’m sure you’re tired. I’ve had a small repast prepared, which my women will bring when you are ready.”
He motioned Youssef and Kumar ahead, but stopped with a frown when he saw that Saoud intended to accompany them. “Your man will be served outside,” he told Kumar.
“I go where my lord Kumar goes,” Saoud said.
“It’s his habit.” Kumar shrugged and a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “He thinks of himself as my protector, and there’s little I can do about it.”
“I’d do something about it,” Ben Fatah answered with a growl. “I’d have him tied to a post and lashed for his insolence.”
Saoud didn’t speak, but there was a flash of anger in his eyes that made Ben Fatah say, “Yes, yes. Very well. But he is a servant and will sit apart from us.”
They entered the tent. It was large and unkempt. Stained rugs covered the sand, floor pillows were scattered about. There were camel saddles, a bed with rumpled bed covers, a low table.
Ben Fatah motioned them to sit before he clapped his hands and shouted, “Women! Serve us now.”
The three men sat cross-legged in front of the table. Saoud sat behind Kumar. Three robed women came in. Their eyes behind their veils looked frightened. The food looked unappetizing.
And it was. The lamb was greasy, the couscous was cold, the chicken tough. Ben Fatah ate with his fingers, and licked each one with a loud, sucking sound after every bite.
When at last the food had been taken away and the too-sweet mint tea had been served, Ben Fatah said, “Now, shall we get to the reason for your visit?”
“My reason is a simple one.” Kumar wiped his hands on the cloth that had been provided. “Abdu Resaba is on the verge of a civil war. A former minister of my father’s, Sharif Kadiri, has turned traitor. We’re sure that he’s in Azrou Jadida raising men to fight against us.”
“It is a question of oil, of course.” Ben Fatah wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oil and money, yes?”
Kumar nodded. “I’ve come to the desert to try to convince the tribes that we must unite because the welfare of our country is at stake. We must stand as one united nation against Azrou Jadida.”
“I’ve done business with Azrou Jadida from time to time and have had no trouble with them.”
“Oil business.” Kumar frowned. “I know that. And you know that for many years our country has had an agreement to sell oil to the European countries as well as to the Un
ited States. Azrou Jadida will use the oil you would sell them to make war on smaller, more defenseless countries.”
“That’s no concern of mine.”
Kumar, trying to hold on to his temper, leaned forward. “They would make war on our country,” he said.
Ben Fatah took a sip of his tea. “I’m Bedouin. The desert is my home.”
“But you are a citizen of Abdu Resaba,” Youssef protested. “You can’t turn your back on your country.”
“I can do anything I want to do, if the money is right.” All pretense at cordiality vanished. “If there is a war, Sharif Kadiri will win. And when he does, if I have sold my oil to Azrou Jadida as he has asked me to, I’ll be the richest man in the desert.”
He stood and with a hand on the sheathed dagger said, “Go back to your father and tell him that it is I, Nasir Ben Fatah, who rules the desert. Not him, not you. Tell him that I will sell my oil to whomever I please. If war comes I ride with Sharif Kadiri.”
He took a step toward Kumar. “I do favors for my friends,” he said in a low and threatening voice. “Kadiri is my friend. You, the whoreson of that bastard Rashid, are not.”
Kumar jumped to his feet. But Ben Fatah had the advantage. He reached for the jeweled dagger, yanked it out of its scabbard and lunged at Kumar. The knife slashed out. Kumar threw himself to one side. The knife missed his chest but slashed his arm. He cried out and reached for his gun. Before he could get it, Saoud jumped forward and brought the edge of his hand down on Ben Fatah’s wrist. Ben Fatah swore; the dagger fell to the sand.
Youssef gripped Kumar’s arm. “You’re hurt!” he cried.
Kumar shrugged him away and started toward Ben Fatah.
The other man’s face was livid with rage. “Abdulah!” he called out. “Faouzi!”
Two men, guns drawn, rushed in. Saoud grabbed Ben Fatah around his neck and held the dagger to his throat.
“We will leave as we came.” Kumar clutched his bloody arm. “Warn your men not to attack us from behind. If they do, Nasir Ben Fatah, be assured you will be the first to fall.”
The three of them, with Saoud holding Ben Fatah in front of him, strode out of the tent. A dozen of Ben Fatah’s men were waiting for them. In back of them, surrounding them, were Youssef’s men.
Desert Man Page 17