The Tower (22 page)

Whenever he spotted the outline of a tent in the distance, he would turn off the trail to give the camp a wide berth, circling around until it was no longer visible on the horizon behind him. He would then make his way slowly back to the trail and proceed straight ahead as long as the light of day allowed.

It was fairly late in the season and the days had become quite short, but Philip took advantage of the last glow of twilight and the first light of dawn. He even continued his journey when he could by the light of the moon, making the most of the chalky luminescence of the salty white ground.

Night was as quiet as day, and the enormous flat space that surrounded him would have seemed completely empty if it hadn’t been for the howling of jackals that rose out of nowhere and faded back into nothing when the rare autumn clouds flitted past the moon. He stayed on the right track thanks to his field compass, a gift from his father many, many years before. It was a beautiful instrument of polished brass in a dark brown leather case. Every time he checked his direction he realized that his father was guiding him even then.

All that solitude brought thoughts of his father to mind. What might he be like after so many years spent so far from human society, after all this time spent in a relentless search? What would meeting him be like, if he managed to find him? What would he tell him? What would they say to each other? Would he find the words to ask him how he could have disappeared in such a way, with no warning, without even saying goodbye?

He slept whenever tiredness overwhelmed him. He avoided lighting fires even when he would have been able to gather up a sufficient quantity of twigs and sticks, so as not to attract attention, but he knew that the desert had eyes and ears everywhere, even when it seemed empty. He reached Tedmor on the evening of the fourth day, and he congratulated himself on how well he had succeeded in his solitary navigation.

He’d never seen such a marvel. He rode along the great colonnade and then turned left towards the palm grove that surrounded the spring and the pool. A little boy dressed in a long red tunic had been watching and following him since he’d entered the oasis. Philip stopped suddenly and asked him: ‘What do you want?’

‘What about you?’ replied the boy. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m looking for Sheikh Abu el Abd, may God preserve him.’

‘Then follow me,’ said the boy, heading towards the gigantic Temple of Baal that stood at the western border of the oasis.

The sheikh was inside the temple, sitting on the bench from which he administered justice over his tribe. Philip sat down on the capital of a toppled column and waited until the session had ended. He then approached and said, ‘
Salam alekhum, al sheikh
, my name is Philip Garrett. Enos ben Gad told me you would be able to give me news of my father.’

The sheikh drew closer and gave him a searching look. ‘You are the son of Desmond
nabil
?’ he said.

‘That’s right,’ replied Philip

‘When did you speak with Enos ben Gad?’

‘Five days ago.’

‘Were you present at his last hour?’

‘I was. But how do you know that he’s dead?’

‘I know.’

‘Enos said that you could tell me where to look for my father.’

‘Your father did not mention you to me. Why should I tell you where he is?’

Philip lowered his head. Could his father really persist in keeping his whereabouts a secret ad infinitum? He replied nonetheless, ‘Perhaps my father never mentioned me to you, but Enos ben Gad did tell me to come here, otherwise why would I have journeyed so far? It was with his last breath that he said, “Abu el Abd . . . go to Tedmor, he knows.” But if you won’t speak to me, I’ll continue to search for my father on my own. I’ll turn over every stone of this wretched desert if I must.’ He fell silent, waiting for a reply.

‘If you spoke with Enos ben Gad, tell me, what goods does he sell at his market stall at the grand bazaar?’

‘Sandalwood. You must ask him for sandalwood.’

‘And where does he keep it?’

‘Not in the shop. It’s in his house, in the patio, in a corner cupboard.’

‘Follow me,’ said the sheikh.

They went to the tent by the pool and the sheikh had him enter. ‘I can trust no one,’ he said, inviting his guest to join him. ‘Our enemies are everywhere. Is it you who are looking for your father, or did he send for you?’

‘I think he has sent for me. But I sometimes have my doubts. I haven’t seen him for ten years. I’m simply following a trail he’s left for me. But it hasn’t helped much. The journey is difficult and the obstacles in my way seem enormous.’

‘Do you know what your father is searching for?’

‘I do.’

‘And you’re not afraid?’

‘I am afraid.’

‘Then why don’t you turn back?’

‘Because I’m not afraid enough.’

‘Your father was here as Enos ben Gad was dying. We heard his soul passing in the wind.’

‘But where is my father now?’

‘If nothing has stopped him, he is somewhere between here and the City of Tombs.’

‘Petra,’ said Philip. ‘I’ll find him.’

C
OLONEL
J
OBERT ADVANCED
with his men through the scorching desert, hoping to reach a well before nightfall. The landscape had become very different and unfamiliar. Here and there the bones of gigantic animals poked out of the sand, and the ground was covered with an endless expanse of flint, black and shiny, incandescent in the heat.

Captain Bonnier stopped in his tracks. ‘Colonel.’

‘What is it?’

‘Look. On that stone.’

Jobert glanced at the incision. A faceless man, with a Gorgon on his chest.

‘The Blemmyae again, Commander.’

Jobert did not reply and spurred his horse on to the head of the column, followed by the captain.

‘How much further do you intend to proceed in this direction, Colonel? The well at Bir Akkar is the last we’ll be able to draw water from. If we go on for any more than thirty kilometres beyond that point, the men’s lives will be at constant risk.’

‘Have you ever heard of Kalaat Hallaki, Captain Bonnier?’

Bonnier seemed disconcerted. ‘Yes, I have, of course, but I’ve been led to believe that it is merely a legend.’

‘It’s no legend, Bonnier, and I will prove it. All that’s needed is the courage to venture fifty kilometres beyond the well of Bir Akkar.’

‘That’s one hundred, of course, if we shouldn’t find anything there, and if we haven’t found water along the way. You risk the unit’s destruction.’

‘We have no choice if we want to reach the area we’ve been asked to explore. We must discover what has happened to the expeditions who have ventured into these lands and have vanished.’

‘We’ll have to see if we can find enough water at Bir Akkar. Everything depends on that,’ said Bonnier.

‘Yes. In that case, we will collect sufficient supplies to attempt to reach Kalaat Hallaki.’

‘And if Kalaat Hallaki does not exist?’

‘It does exist, Bonnier. I’m sure it exists. It’s merely well hidden in one of the Wadi Addir gullies.’

It was late afternoon by the time they reached Bir Akkar and Jobert had the water level measured immediately. It was not abundant, but might suffice. He had his men light the sulphur carbide stoves and boil all the water they were able to extract. The next morning he calculated twenty litres of water for each man, a quantity that would be barely enough for four days. It would last if they found Kalaat Hallaki. If not, their fates would be in the hands of God.

They set off. Nothing particular happened for the first two days of their journey. Jobert had ordered his soldiers to economize on water as much as possible, and to save the urine of both the men and animals – they would recycle it if necessary.

On the evening of the third day they came within sight of a wadi that cut across their line of march. The vegetation on the stony bottom was sparse and stunted, but larger trees could be seen further up in the direction of the mountain.

‘Do you see that, Bonnier?’ said Colonel Jobert. ‘Do you know what that means? We’ll find water in more than sufficient quantity if we head in that direction.’

They resumed their journey, but before long the vegetation thinned out again and then disappeared completely. Jobert lowered his head; he could feel his men staring at his back, and he began to fear for their lives.

‘It’s useless for all of us to proceed together,’ he said then. ‘It would be a waste of water and energy that we can ill afford. Three of us will go on to scout out the terrain. The rest of you will remain here, doing nothing that would increase your drinking and eating needs beyond what is strictly necessary. Don’t lose hope, men. I’m sure that we’ll find Kalaat Hallaki before dusk. But if you don’t see us return by tomorrow, turn back and may God protect you.’

He took a sergeant and a legionnaire with him, and enough water and food for twenty-four hours. They departed in a south-easterly direction, abandoning the wadi bed that seemed to be leading them astray. As he observed the surrounding terrain, Jobert realized that the arid course of the Addir meandered around a vast limestone plateau that emerged here and there from the sand; he estimated that it was many kilometres wide. From the same plateau rose an arcing range of hills that stood out against the south-western horizon. Jobert decided to cross the plateau from one side to another in the hope of finding the wadi again on the other side. The calcareous bedrock would help the groundwater to drain from the hills and to concentrate at the point in which the plateau was immersed once again in the sand. That’s where Kalaat Hallaki was to be found.

Jobert and his two companions rode under the blazing sun for hours and hours, but when they were about halfway across the vast limestone plateau, a fiery western wind barred their way with a cloud of dust and sand which formed an impenetrable barrier.

Jobert turned to his men. ‘This very phenomenon was described in the reports I’ve read. Trust me, we can’t give up now. Our compass will guide us through the sandstorm. Cover your faces and eyes and we’ll go on,’ he said.

The men dampened their handkerchiefs and knotted them in front of their noses and mouths and followed their commander, who was urging his reluctant mount into that dense wall of dust raised by the incessant wind, which obscured the sky. They advanced slowly for nearly three hours without any change in the situation. The dust was as fine as talc. It dried their nostrils and throats and penetrated into their lungs, provoking a continuous, hacking cough.

Jobert looked back and realized that the horse of one of his men was about to collapse, overcome by strain and thirst. ‘Onward!’ he shouted. ‘We mustn’t lose heart! Onward!’ But the hissing wind carried his voice off, far away. He felt doomed. He thought of his men, waiting in vain. They would surely all die in a futile attempt to get back to Bir Akkar.

He turned forwards again, to forge on in the only direction which left him any hope, and couldn’t believe his eyes. As if by some miracle, the cloud of sand was dispersing. Step after step, the driving wind was becoming a gentle breeze and a vision appeared before his eyes. A green, sheltered valley, an expanse of fertile fields and lush palm groves. Pomegranates, figs, grapes. Canals intertwined around a pool as blue as the sky and as clear as crystal, and atop a granite cliff stood a colossal fortress: Kalaat Hallaki!

‘My God!’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘We’ve made it.’

They descended into the valley at a slow pace as the fresh, damp air seemed to quench their thirst and to reward them for braving that hell. They crossed green fields where animals were browsing: herds of sheep and long-maned mares with their colts. They stopped at a rocky outcrop from which a jet of water spilled into a basalt basin. An old man sitting on a dry palm trunk did not even seem to notice their presence.

‘We have crossed the desert and we are tormented by thirst,’ said Colonel Jobert. ‘We come in peace and ask if we may draw water.’

The old man replied in Arabic with a strange accent, as if he were used to speaking a completely different language.

‘You may take water if you come in peace,’ he said.

‘We come in peace,’ repeated the officer. ‘Thank you, from the depths of my heart, thank you.’

The men dismounted and caught the water in their hands, bringing it avidly to their mouths. They washed the dust from their faces and hair and watered their exhausted horses. It was like living in a dream.

‘I have other companions, tormented by thirst as well, and by hunger. They are beyond the barrier of wind,’ he said to the old man. ‘May I bring them here as well? Their lives are in danger.’

‘You may bring them here,’ said the old man, ‘if they come in peace.’

The two legionnaires let their horses graze, watered them again and then filled their flasks with fresh water before they departed.

‘We will be here tomorrow by dusk,’ they promised.

‘Good luck,’ said Colonel Jobert. ‘I’ll wait for you here.’

‘Who are you?’ asked the old man.

‘We are French soldiers,’ replied Colonel Jobert.

‘What are the French?’ asked the old man.

Jobert lowered his head, realizing that in that place he was a human being and nothing else.

When the sun began to set, the old man said to him: ‘You may eat my bread and drink my wine and sleep in my house, if you like.’

‘I am grateful for your hospitality,’ said Jobert. ‘I am very tired and I am a stranger to this valley. I have no place to go.’

But as he was speaking, his attention was drawn by something moving up on the bastions of Kalaat Hallaki. The figure of a woman stood out against the darkening sky, the veils that covered her fluttering in the warm evening air. Jobert was fascinated and took a few steps back to be able to see her better.

The woman moved slowly along the bastions until she reached the southern edge of the crenellated battlements. There she stopped and suddenly raised her song to the heavens. Her voice rose in daring flight towards the celestial vault and then swept across the valley, as clear and sparkling as spring rain, joining with the evening breeze that wafted among the palm groves and the golden vineyards, chasing the solemn flight of the falcon which soared over the castle’s towers. Then all at once the magic was shattered. Like a stone upsetting the surface of a pond, a scream tore through the last note, contorting the song into a terrifying, inhuman sound, the voice of horror greater than any imagining. Agony capable of destroying the infinite peace of that time of day and that marvellous place.