Call of the Trumpet

Home > Other > Call of the Trumpet > Page 15
Call of the Trumpet Page 15

by Helen A. Rosburg’s


  “Dhiba!”

  Cecile glanced briefly at the old woman. She did not notice Jali. She sank to the sleeping quilt and closed her eyes.

  Hagar took command. “Out,” she ordered, and pushed Jali toward the tent opening. “I will send for you later.”

  With a last backward glance, Jali did as he was told. Hagar hurried to Cecile’s side. “Hush, don’t talk.” Not yet anyway, Hagar added to herself. “Let me see what you have done to yourself.”

  Cecile protested in vain. Hagar unwrapped the makruna and sucked in her breath when she saw the bloodstain. “What have you done, child? How did this happen? Never mind, don’t talk yet. I must tend to this.”

  Remembering the girl’s aversion to baul, Hagar poured water into a bowl and found a soft, clean cloth. She felt the back of Cecile’s head, then parted the long, shining hair. Another small gasp escaped her. “Allah is Merciful,” the old woman muttered. “How you returned to camp with this I will never know.” Tenderly, she bathed the wound and rinsed away the embedded sand and grit. When it was clean, blood flowing freely once more, she took another cloth and pressed it over the wound. “Hold this. I will pour you some tea.”

  Holding the clean rag to her head, Cecile managed to sit up and drink the tea Hagar brought to her.

  “Now.” The old woman folded her arms over her breast. “I think it is time you tell me what happened.”

  Cecile looked at Hagar over the rim of the cup. Though she had rehearsed the story, she wondered if the old woman would believe her. “I … I rose early,” she began. “Al Chah ayah was restless, so I … I took her for a walk in the desert.”

  “And did she kick you in the head?” Hagar asked dryly. “I do not know how else such an injury could be obtained.”

  Not daring to hold Hagar’s gaze, Cecile stared into her cup. “No, I … she spooked. The reins were pulled from my hand. I was off balance, and I … I fell.”

  “I see.” The story was plausible enough, Hagar decided. Even if she did not believe the girl, everyone else would. Besides, the truth of what had happened hardly mattered at the moment. Other considerations were far more important.

  “Dhiba,” Hagar said presently, “there is something I must ask you. El Faris came to me last night, looking for you. Did he find you?”

  Cecile’s heart pounded, and her head throbbed in rhythm. “Yes, he … he did.”

  “And would you tell this nosy old woman what passed between you?”

  Cecile closed her eyes and set the cup on the carpeted ground. Should she tell Hagar? Her heart was so full she wanted to. Hagar also might be able to help her explain to El Faris what had happened. He would be angry, she knew, not knowing why she hadn’t come to him with her answer within the hour, indeed, all night. Cecile opened her eyes. “Yes, Hagar, I … I’ll tell you,” she breathed. “It is something wonderful.”

  The old woman could not hide her surprise. Wonderful? “Go on, child.”

  “He … he asked me to marry him,” Cecile replied quickly. Blushing, caught in her memories, she did not notice Hagar’s expression of shock and disbelief. “He said … he told me Shaikh Haddal had decided I must wed. And Shaikh Rashid of the Shammar had seen me and asked for me. But El Faris, he … Oh, Hagar, I think he loves me, even if only a little. Why else would he ask me to marry him? Surely it is not just because he doesn’t want Rashid to have me … do you think?”

  All at once Hagar didn’t know what to think. Dhiba’s explanation shed no light on what was happening. In fact, events were now more mystifying than ever. “Dhiba,” she said, trying to form an intelligent question, “what … what happened when you parted last night?”

  Cecile ducked her head, heedless of the pain it caused. “I … I’m afraid I behaved foolishly. But I was so surprised! And he … he didn’t speak to me with words of love, only of necessity. So I … I reacted badly and he told me to think about what he had said, and to come to his tent in one hour with my answer.”

  The truth slowly dawned. “Tell me, Dhiba,” Hagar prompted gently. “I will reveal what you say to no one, but did you … did you take the mare then?”

  This time Cecile did not drop her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I thought a ride would … would clear my mind. And it did, oh, Hagar, it did! Now I see what a fool I’ve been!”

  Hagar swayed with the impact of the revelation. Ignoring Cecile’s words, she said, “But you did not come to him within the hour, did you? You fell from the horse and were unable to return.”

  “Yes, oh, yes, Hagar. And now I must go to him. I have to tell him, I …”

  “Hush, child.” Hagar gripped Cecile’s hand to keep her from rising. What was she going to do? She did not think El Faris would even see Dhiba. His hurt and anger would blind him. No, there was only one thing to do. She must take the chance herself. She had to try and explain before it was too late. “Listen to me, Dhiba. You are in no condition to go anywhere at the moment. I will go to El Faris myself.”

  “But, Hagar …”

  “No, you must do as I say. Now lie down. Try to sleep.”

  Cecile was only too glad to obey. Her head ached miserably. Besides, Hagar would make everything all right. El Faris would understand and forgive her. They would spend the rest of their lives together. In spite of the joyful thudding of her heart, Cecile was asleep the instant she lay down and closed her eyes.

  Ahmed squatted in front of his master’s tent, too afraid to remain inside with him. He did not understand El Faris’s mood. He did not, in fact, understand anything anymore. Except, perhaps, that his master had been touched by too much sun. It happened sometimes on the desert. He had seen men lose their minds before. He cast a sideways glance at the tent, then looked up to see Hagar hurrying in his direction.

  “Ahmed!”

  “Quiet, old woman!” Ahmed rose hastily, indicating the tent with a nod. “El Faris will cut out the tongue of anyone who disturbs him!”

  Hagar straightened her shoulders. “He will have to sharpen his khusa then, for I am going in to see him.”

  “No, wait!” Ahmed blocked the old woman’s path. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, but I do,” she retorted. “Which is why I must see him. Now step aside, Ahmed. I am going inside.”

  Ahmed opened his mouth, but it was too late. El Faris appeared at the tent flap, scowling darkly. “What is this all about?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”

  Hagar swallowed. “I must speak to you. It is a matter of great urgency. I come to tell you—”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t wish to hear it now,” Matthew interrupted. “Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.” He withdrew into his tent, pulling the flap closed behind him.

  Hagar groaned and raised her hands to her head. “Oh, no, no,” she muttered. “This cannot be; it cannot happen.”

  “What is wrong, old woman?” Ahmed asked kindly. “Perhaps I can help.”

  Hagar looked at him and slowly shook her head. “No, Ahmed. I’m afraid no one can help now. It is too late.” Turning, she shuffled stiffly back the way she had come.

  “This is impertinence! I will not stand for it!”

  The old shaikh gazed wearily at Rashid, then at his servant. “Tell us again, Ali,” he sighed, “what the old woman said.”

  Ali dipped his head. “She said the girl was injured in a fall. She said, begging your forgiveness, but she does not think the girl can even walk to your tent.”

  “You see, Rashid?” Haddal shrugged. “What can I do? If she cannot come, she cannot. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  “But I wish to see her now. If she cannot walk, she must be carried. I want this matter concluded. My camp must move on. I cannot wait forever.”

  “Nor can we,” Haddal agreed. Most particularly, he added to himself, because he wanted his affairs with Rashid to be over and done with. Not to mention the girl, who had already caused him more trouble than all his daughters put together. “We must continue on in a few days. And you must hav
e time to decide whether or not you will keep her.”

  Rashid’s lecherous smile and glittering eyes gave Haddal hope. Also to Haddal’s advantage was the fact that both of Rashid’s wives were pregnant and, therefore, untouchable. Rashid needed a woman’s body, and Al Dhiba’s was a lovely one. Although, he reasoned, even if Rashid divorced and returned her, as was a shaikh’s right after even a single night, he would still have made an ally. The bond would be between them. And the girl would still have her dowry, so it would not be difficult to find her another husband.

  “All right, Rashid,” Haddal said at last. “I agree this must be settled as soon as possible. Ali, go back to the old woman. Tell her I said Dhiba must come, at once. If she cannot walk, carry her.”

  “Dhiba … Dhiba, you must wake. Do you hear me?”

  “Oh, Hagar …” Cecile groaned. “Go away … let me sleep.”

  “You have slept all day,” Hagar said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “Dusk falls. The shaikh has sent for you. You must go to him.”

  Cecile managed to rouse herself and sit up. She brushed the tangled hair from her eyes. “But why … why does he want to see me?”

  “I do not know,” Hagar lied, heart in her throat. “But you must obey his command. There is no choice.”

  As Cecile’s sleep-fogged mind cleared, she realized it had grown dark. And she had not yet seen Matthew! She gripped the old woman’s hands. “Hagar, did you … did you speak to him? Did you explain?”

  Hagar winced. “He … he was busy, Dhiba. I did not have the chance.”

  “Then I must go to him! At once!”

  Yes, Hagar thought. Time had almost run out. It was the only thing left to do. Yet Dhiba must first go to Haddal. One did not keep a shaikh waiting. “Clean yourself. Here,” Hagar handed Cecile the water skin and a cloth. “Replait your hair and cover your head. I have washed your makruna.”

  Cecile complied, and Hagar watched her, debating what to say, how much to tell her. Knowing the girl, she was afraid to reveal the truth before she went to the shaikh. No, she decided, it was better not to tell her. Later she would explain to Al Dhiba what had happened as a result of her tardiness, and pray that pride and anger would not blind the girl again and keep her from saying what she must to El Faris.

  “I’m ready, Hagar.”

  Hagar found she could not bear to look at the girl’s shining eyes. “Come,” she ordered brusquely, and took Cecile’s hand. “We must go to the shaikh. Then we will find El Faris.”

  The trek to Haddal’s tent seemed endless. Cecile had to lean heavily on the old woman’s arm, but she did not falter. Her heart was full, bursting with both joy and anxiety. Whatever the shaikh wanted her for would have to be dealt with quickly. She could not wait to see El Faris.

  El Faris … husband. Her pulse fluttered. At the entrance to Haddal’s tent, she paused and squeezed Hagar’s hand. “Wait, please. I won’t be long.”

  Pray to Allah’s Mercy, Hagar thought. She closed her eyes as Cecile entered the tent.

  Surprised, Cecile still remembered to lower her gaze and sink swiftly to her knees. What, she wondered, was Rashid doing here?

  “Come closer, woman,” Haddal instructed. “Shaikh Rashid would speak with you.”

  Cecile crawled forward slowly, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “I would also look upon her more intimately,” Rashid said. “Would you have her remove the veil?”

  Startled, and with growing apprehension, Cecile glanced at Haddal. He nodded. “Remove it.”

  With trembling fingers, Cecile unfastened one side of the veil and let it fall.

  Rashid exhaled a long breath.

  “Well?” Haddal prompted.

  Rashid smiled. “I will have the hegra erected tomorrow. When the moon rises, my servant will bring her to me.”

  Cecile’s stomach plummeted. Her head throbbed with growing intensity, and the room spun. What was going on? What were they talking about? Didn’t they know she was promised to El Faris?

  Or hadn’t he told Haddal yet? Cecile remembered the urgency in his voice when he had said they must be married immediately. Did he also mean secretly, so the shaikh could not prevent it? What should she do? What should she say?

  “Cover yourself,” Haddal said. “Shaikh Rashid accepts you. Now return to your tent and ready yourself for the morrow.”

  Cecile could not scramble from their presence fast enough. Her head pounded, and dizziness threatened to send her sprawling. “Oh, Hagar,” Cecile moaned, clutching the old woman’s arm. “There is a terrible misunderstanding. We must find El Faris at once!”

  “I know, I know,” Hagar fretted. “We must hurry. It grows late. Lean on me.”

  Cecile gratefully obeyed. Her heart beat so fast she thought it might burst … if her head did not first explode. She barely noticed the gathering crowd.

  Hagar did, however, and panic thickened hotly in her breast. Was it too late already? Had fate denied Al Dhiba and El Faris happiness by only a few precious moments? It could not be true. Allah was Merciful.

  But it was true. Hagar spotted the approaching couple in the instant before Cecile saw them. They were still quite a distance away yet, but unlike the girl, Hagar knew who they were. An aching grief she had thought she would never again experience flowed through her aged limbs, and she staggered.

  “Hagar! Are you all right?”

  “Yes … no, no, I’m not. You must … you must take me back to the tent.”

  “But …”

  “Now! Hurry!”

  Cecile hesitated. A wedding was in progress, she realized, and she longed to see the happy couple. She would be a bride herself soon. She wanted to share the couple’s joy for a moment … before she went to the man who would be her own husband.

  Whatever was wrong with Hagar, hadn’t diminished the old woman’s strength. Cecile found herself being yanked in the opposite direction. “Hagar, wait a minute … please!” Irritated, she pulled from the old woman’s grasp, swaying slightly as she did so. Then she turned to catch a glimpse of the approaching pair.

  Dizziness had temporarily blurred her vision, and it was a moment before Cecile focused. She blinked, squinted. Her body numbed.

  He walked stiffly erect, expression grim yet determined. The white towb and silk-lined zebun swished against his booted legs. The end of his khaffiya fluttered in the night breeze, and his clear blue eyes stared straight ahead.

  The little bride hurried along at his side, eyes shining with subdued joy. The one who had reached to touch him. The young and pretty one. She who now walked with him to the hegra.

  Cecile’s heart stopped. Frozen, she stared at the passing couple. As they drew even with her, a cry escaped her lips, and he looked briefly in her direction.

  Their eyes met, locked. Hers filled with an expression of disbelief, anguish, and pain beyond endurance. His with hurt, angry accusation, and … and what? Some thing else, something beyond and behind the anger … something Cecile groped for with desperation. Abruptly, Matthew continued on his way.

  Hagar’s arm embraced the girl as the couple entered the tent. Together they sank to the ground, Cecile’s head pillowed against the old woman’s breast. Then Hagar rocked her slowly back and forth, keening under her breath in grief-stricken harmony to the rasping, heartbroken sobs.

  Chapter

  15

  AZA ROUSED SLOWLY AND INDULGED IN A LUXUrious stretch. Her body ached pleasantly. Blushing, she recalled the way he had touched her, gently at first, yet with increasing urgency. When he had taken her at last it had been almost with violence. She closed her eyes and shyly touched her breasts.

  Had he found her desirable? she wondered. It had been over so soon, and when he had done with her, he had turned away and was quickly asleep. Was that how all men behaved on their wedding night? Little as she knew about men and the marriage bed, Aza feared something had been wrong. El Faris was known as a gentle man, and he had certainly seemed so when she had brought him t
he food.

  Yet as time had passed that night, he had grown restless, anxious. Had it been her presence? She doubted it. She had been quiet and attentive and had done nothing to offend. She had merely watched as he had paced, back and forth, from one end of his tent to the other. Then, suddenly, he had stopped, rummaged in a pack, and produced what had looked like a small golden clock attached to a chain. He had studied it, then flung it aside.

  She had been frightened then. Thunder rode on his brow. Some kind of deep, dark inner pain had clouded the clear, bright blue of his gaze. He had shaken his head, scrubbed his hand over his eyes, grasped her arms, and pulled her to her feet. He had stared at her, long and deeply.

  Had it been some kind of a test? If so, she had evidently passed, for in the next moment, he had said, “I would take a wife, Aza. You are a good, kind, and thoughtful woman. Will you consent to marriage?”

  Aza sighed. It was not exactly how she had envisioned her betrothal. Neither, however, had she ever thought it would be the mighty El Faris who would propose. At least, not so swiftly, on the very first day she had put her plan into action. She had no illusions that he loved her … how could he? But he had need. And, thank Allah, she had been there.

  It didn’t matter that he did not love her. Nothing mattered but that she belonged to him. Her wildest, most impossible dream had come true. She had loved him for years, since the very first time she had laid eyes upon him, when he had come to Shaikh Haddal with a gift of horses. But he would grow to love her in return, she was certain of it. She would soothe away his troubles, whatever they might be. She would heal the pain she had seen in him, no matter what its cause. They would be happy.

  Filled with sudden longing, Aza rolled into the space he had vacated when he had risen at dawn, and inhaled the lingering male scent of him. Then she sat up and replaited her hair. Soon her mother and sister would come to help her wash and prepare her to officially enter her bridegroom’s tent … her home. Aza’s pulse raced, and her fingers flew. She did not want to waste a moment that might be spent in his presence.

 

‹ Prev