Desert Hostage

by Diane Dunaway

  Quick as a viper's tongue, Hussar's hand shot out, grabbing her forearm so tightly she thought it would break. "You will find it is useless to lie, little pigeon. We already know that you have a great deal of `vital' information, as you call it." His fingers dug deeper into her bone until, in spite of herself, Juliette winced.

  "Now you will begin by telling me how many men Karim al-Sharif has assembled at El Abadan, and when they will attack."

  Juliette hesitated, wondering what information she could fabricate that he would believe. His thumb pressed hard against her wrist bone as he leaned forward anticipating an answer.

  With all her strength, Juliette jerked away, taking her wounded wrist in the other hand.

  "I don't know how many men are in El Abadan," she said. "But any fool must realize he will not attack in the open when he can remain in a fortress."

  A smile came to Hussar's lips. "Ha! So Karim al-Sharif has discussed his plan with you. And do not be so certain he will stay behind those walls where he cowers like a woman. Now that you are here with me, so very enticing, eh? Perhaps that devil may find a reason to come to me!"

  "He doesn't discuss anything with me, but with his chiefs instead," Juliette stated firmly.

  "It has not been my concern how many men he has or what his plan might be."

  "No, little pigeon?" Hussar's close-set eyes slid down her frame. "A woman like you does not clutter her mind with such practicalities, does she?"

  His eyebrows jumped high, wrinkling his greasy forehead. "Oh, how insulted you look. Would you say I am wrong? But no-I am a man of experience. I can tell a passionate woman when I see one. But that I will take more time with later. For now you will tell me what I wish. It is known that lately you have stayed in the private rooms of Karim al-Sharif, and there is no reason for you to protect him, now is there?”

  He pulled her closer on the pillow beside him before he sat back on his fat buttocks and looked at her sharply. "What anger is in your face, mademoiselle? But I think you know much more than you want me to believe. Shall I show you why?"

  From inside his robe Hussar produced several creased sheets of paper-Juliette recognized the letter at once. Her stomach protracted into a knot as he set it on the table and flicked it toward her with two fingers.

  "You were in possession of this when you were brought here." His eyes scoffed. "Perhaps you thought to sell it to someone, eh? So why not tell me everything-you who know so little of `vital' matters."

  He laughed shortly as Juliette paled again. Naturally, having found this letter, he must think she had searched Karim's most personal papers.

  Hussar's face was drawn in ugly lines as he continued. "You see, little pigeon, you have provided just what I needed. Imagine how it has been for me, mademoiselle, to know all these years that Sharif was an imposter and never be able to prove it-to watch him growing always wealthier on a throne that rightly belongs to me. Can you even begin to know how much I hate him? Yes, I even hate his servants-and his women." Hussar's eyes took on the gleam of one possessed as he sneered. "Can you imagine-just knowing Sharif has touched you makes me hate you!"

  Suddenly he had drawn his knife again and abruptly he stabbed her pillow just beneath her leg in a quick thrust that made Juliette spring up.

  His laugh was chilling. "It pleases me to see you are frightened. It will make things easier. Although I think my men will be disappointed if you are not stubborn. You see, usually I let them have an incorrigible female for an hour or two. Afterward, well-women don't care what they tell afterward. But you, mademoiselle, I know you are smarter than that. Or would you like to see for yourself what they would do with a tender morsel like you?"

  Juliette raised her chin. "I don't think that will be necessary. I have already said I will tell you what you want to know. But if I don't know something, how can you expect an answer?"

  Hussar's chuckle was low as he came closer, and she felt his fat fingers close round her arm. "I think you flirt with me, mademoiselle-that you play little games perhaps." His second hand encircled her other arm. "Yes. You do have charm of a kind. Bewitching, I've heard it said. In fact, when I am Sheik of El Abadan, I will make you my favorite-that is, if you cooperate." He sneered with a kind of irony. "And wouldn't that be testament for the fates. Already the astrologers agree that you will be the woman who gives birth to the heir of El Abadan. And so it will be-my heir!"

  His eyes roamed over her, his rotted teeth so close she felt sick from their foul odor. "And wouldn't now be a fortuitous time to conceive my son, when there is such violence between us. Wouldn't it make him all the more fierce?"

  He pushed her backward, down onto the soiled cushions, a sprinkling of sand falling off his sleeve and into her eyes.

  "Now I will have my first little taste of you, and you will not fight, or maybe you would like better to be staked out on the floor of my tent?"

  He drew her wrists together into one of his hands whose short fingers were like a wrestler's. Then he had both arms over her head, pinning her to the palm-mat floor as his thick lips were covering hers, his tongue darting like a lizard inside her mouth. She was going to be sick, oh, but she must not.

  Then he was pulling away, withdrawing his knife and slitting open her robe before replacing the weapon in a carved sheath strapped to the center of his huge girth. His hands crawled over her flesh, pulling at her breasts.

  Her bravado crumbled under the assault. "Stop! Please! I'll tell you what you want to know," she said, squirming and frantically thinking of what she could make up that he might believe. But it was useless and she felt his hands going lower as he said, "Yes, of course, you will tell me, but first . ."

  There was sudden confusion overhead before Juliette saw the boy Amin throwing himself between them and pleading with Hussar in a dialect Juliette couldn't understand.

  Abruptly, Hussar released her wrists so she slid down on the floor and she let herself roll until she reached the opposite side of the tent. Then, coming quickly to her feet, she pulled her tattered robe tight across her breasts.

  Amin had fallen to the floor, kissing Hussar's wide feet. But now, whisking off his striped pants, he was presenting his brown, upturned buttocks to his master as he continued to plead.

  A low growl emitted from Hussar's throat as he raised his heavy fist. Amin was suddenly lying stunned on the floor, blood dripping from his bruised mouth. Moaning, the boy picked himself up and staggered from the room. Hussar turned back toward Juliette, smiling grotesquely.

  Juliette's stomach contracted then. She could endure no more and she was violently sick on the palm mats and cushions, helplessly wondering at the strange incongruity of Hussar's voice, suddenly polite again, as he held her head at the temples while she heaved.

  "Poor Amin-so pretty, but so jealous. And how sensitive you are, little pigeon. But isn't it true that sometimes this European `ether' has this effect of sickness from the stomach? Or have I scared you so?" Hussar's eyebrows arched, wrinkling his forehead in little bulging ridges. "But no. I will not have to rape you, little pigeon. After I am through with you, you will beg me to use you any way I please and tell me, has Sharif ever taken you boy-fashion?"

  Chapter 72

  Juliette was sick until there was nothing else in her stomach and she retched and spasmed, rolling on the floor and wishing she would die. How easily they can break me, she thought. I'm so weak. But she realized now that, in her present condition at least, Hussar had declined to continue questioning her and had gone, leaving her tied up, her eyes swollen from the sand that rubbed them bleary red.

  She slept then, or rather tossed and turned, dropping off in a stupor plagued by nightmares that aroused her for a time before she dropped off again. At dawn she awoke and stayed awake, waiting. But to her surprise it wasn't Hussar's voice that she heard an hour later from the tent flap.

  "Ah, so the little sharmuta is here. And she does not look so pretty this morning. Such a shame Karim cannot see you now."

  No, it
was quite impossible, Juliette thought as she rolled over to look. It was the damage the sand had done to her eyes, or maybe she was drugged. She stared until her clouded vision cleared.

  "Zenobia!" her voice cracked before she could force strength into it.

  "Yes-you remember me," Zenobia said bitterly as she strolled closer and stood looking down. "What a shame my plan for you didn't work. But of course, if you were already dead, you would be of little use to Abu Hussar."

  "So! It was you that tried to kill me-who sent Ramad," Juliette said.

  "Did you ever doubt it? You should have bled to death that night but then Ramad was scared. He didn't realize we meant to kill you, so he went to the master and brought him to you. It was luck and that foolish boy that saved you. It only proves you are a she-devil yourself!"

  Juliette's nostrils quivered, a new fury circulating in her veins. Her eyes became slits.

  "But what then of Cassia? Where is she?"

  A disgusted sneer twisted Zenobia's lips. "The spirits work on your side, but they were of no help to your stupid little maid. She suspected it was I who paid the assassin. She was too clever, too quick to discover she was right. I couldn't let her ruin my plans. So when Hussar's men came to El Abadan to bring me here and to capture you, I had them bring her along." Zenobia laughed again, her gold encircled wrists bracing her hips. "Hussar gave her to his men last night. If there is anything left of her," Zenobia pointed a finger out the open tent flap, "it is out there."

  Juliette couldn't prevent her voice from shaking. "And you dare call me she-devil!" she said in a seething tone. "What do you call yourself? Witch? Murderer?" Then overcome, Juliette spat at Zenobia's feet in a contemptuous Arab gesture.

  Surprise crossed Zenobia's fine features for a moment and then a wicked smile. "So! You become an Arab while Karim is proved to be English. Ha! You see, I too know about the letter. It is amusing, don't you agree? And when they show Karim the letter written in his mother's own hand, how can he deny that he is an imposter?" Zenobia's eyes constricted to shining black slits. "He will be put to death as the law is written," she sneered, and leaning forward, Juliette felt the burning sting of the Arab girl's slaps as they rotated her chin from shoulder to shoulder.

  "How I despise you! All of you whites who take and take and give nothing in return." Zenobia's eyes were abruptly wide. "But don't worry. When your lover comes to meet, his death like a goat to slaughter, I will see that you don't miss it, and unless he wants you to die, he will bring the ransom alone into this camp where Hussar will be waiting. And he will come-very soon."

  "No!" Juliette said, full of all the scornful bravado she could muster. "Hussar has planned very poorly if he is expecting Karim to ransom me! Didn't you know I had fallen from favor? Maybe no one told you, but the last time I saw Sharif he was planning to send me back to my home. Do you expect him to risk coming here for a woman he no longer desires?"

  Juliette stared into Zenobia's face, driving her point home and, seeing the girl's sudden hesitation, she - sat back defiantly. "But of course even if Sharif comes and Hussar kills him, there is also a problem for you, is there not?" she continued in a smooth tone, her chin jutting forward.

  Zenobia's forehead wrinkled into a tight network of ugly lines. "What do you mean?"

  Juliette looked levelly at the girl. Zenobia was the only one who could possibly save Karim.

  Somehow she must make her help him. "I mean," She said at last, "that once Hussar has killed Karim, then what use will you be? Already you know too much." Juliette smirked. "Don't you think that after Karim is dead the tribes allied with him will suspect Hussar as his killer? And Hussar dares not risk turning them all against him. He wouldn't want anyone else alive who might tell of his treachery." Juliette's cut lips smiled. "Tell me, Zenobia, you know more about Hussar than I do. Tell me-do you think he is the type to concern himself with one murder more or less?" Juliette rubbed the hair out of her face with her bound wrists.

  "But who can know for sure," she said. "In sha'Allah. It is the Arab way, is it not, to accept the outcome in such matters as the will of Allah? And doesn't it say in your Koran that Allah protects the innocent while punishing the wrongdoers?" Juliette cocked her head. "If Allah is to determine this, then you must judge for yourself, Zenobia, what stains lie on your soul."

  As Juliette hoped, the light of fear sprang into Zenobia's eyes for a brief moment as the seed of doubt took root.

  She flushed then, red as her henna-stained fingernails: "But Allah does not help infidel dogs," she spat. "And after Hussar has finished with Karim al-Sharif, then I will begin on you."

  Zenobia withdrew a small blade from inside her garments and passed its deadly stiletto point flashing beneath Juliette's nose.

  "I'll make over that face of yours with my little knife so no one will even recognize you. And when I've finished, the camel drivers can have you. And when they've done what they will, I'll laugh as I watch you bleed to death," Zenobia finished with a sneer of chilling deadliness.

  Juliette gritted her teeth. "You are poisoned with jealousy, Zenobia. You wish revenge against Karim for casting you aside, when he has not done so. You are still his favorite, yet you pretend to be so wronged. I do not think you ever really loved him."

  Zenobia re-sheathed her knife id a single practiced move¬ment. "I did love him!" she insisted. "More than you did! And yet it was you he chose!"

  Juliette raised her eyebrows. "He chose to reject, me. Do you not have ears to hear? He was sending me away. But how can you even speak of loving him when this love of yours turns so easily to treachery. And think, Zenobia. Karim doesn't know that he is English. He despises the English just as you do. He will use his power to drive them from the lands of your people. While Hussar . . ." Juliette shook her head skeptically. "With him as leader, what will prevent all of you from becoming slaves to the Europeans you hate?"

  Zenobia's pointed breasts heaved with the deep breaths she was taking in an effort to control herself. "Karim al¬Sharif wants power for himself! But already his downfall is near. I will have my own revenge, and there will be no one to stop Hussar from taking his rightful place as Sheik of El Abadan!" Zenobia flashed with a final piercing look. "Karim will come, and both of you will die!"

  Then turning in a whirl of raven hair, Zenobia stalked out of the tent without a backward look.

  A low moan passed Juliette's lips. No, it couldn't be! Hussar and Zenobia were both insane. And anyway, both of them were wrong about Karim. He was an Arab, though not a drop of true Arab blood actually flowed in his veins. He would neither take such a foolish risk, nor surrender to Hussar tyranny. He would kill to possess a woman perhaps, but he would never die for one.

  Juliette expelled a long breath. Hussar's torture would begin soon. He would want answers to all his questions. She wouldn't be able to save herself, from him or what would come afterward.

  Oh, if I think about that I'll go mad right now, she told herself pulling again against the bindings around her wrists that were so tight she could no longer feel her hands. Then, finally giving up, she laid on her side, knowing within herself a depth of terror that made her shiver uncontrollably.

  Hours passed and finally, exhausted, she slept in fitful bouts with Zenobia and Hussar and Karim all spinning about her head in feverish nightmares. At dawn, a girl with a bruised face brought her a wooden bowl full of rice and dried meat and, looking at it, Juliette realized she would have considered the food ined¬ible at any other time.

  But now hunger combined with a will to live overcame her sensitivities and she ate all her cramping stomach would allow before letting herself drop to the floor again.

  How long they would wait before they killed her, she wondered, looking around the dingy tent through the gray blur that had formed over her eyes. Hussar had seemed ready to tear her to pieces last night. What delayed him now? Or was he just taking his time until fear turned her to a mass of quivering jelly?

  A figure casting a long shadow fro
m the doorway made her head swing round as Zenobia ducked under the flap and walked into the tent.

  Immediately Juliette tried to read the girl's face for some sign, and seeing no triumph in the girl's eyes she said, "So, Karim has not come."

  She manufactured a confident smile. "You see, Zenobia, haven't I told you? You were so jealous of me. We women are all fools when it comes to love. Men follow their brains, not their hearts. So it seems, Zenobia that both you and Hussar have gone to a great deal of trouble for no purpose."

  Zenobia glared poisonously. "You should be praying now for him to come. Hussar is planning to send him one of your fingers for every day he delays."

  Juliette felt her guts twist though she made her face lazy and contemptuous. "But no matter what happens, I still die. Either way it is the same for me. It is you Zenobia, who should be praying that Hussar doesn't decide to silence those who might wag their tongues."

  Zenobia bared her claws. "White bitch!" she spat starting forward.