Guardian of the Horizon (14 page)

"Quite right," said Emerson. He mounted one of the kneeling camels and induced it to stand up. We crowded round Selim, watching Emerson ride slowly toward the waiting man. "I do not approve of this," I announced. "Who are these people, anyhow?" "Tebu, I think." Ramses did not take his eyes off his father. "Of the Guraan tribe." Emerson reined up beside the other man. I couldn't hear what they said, but after a brief exchange the raider burst into a peal of laughter and the two rode back toward us, side by side. Ramses said softly, "Mother and Nefret, go into one of the tents and stay out of sight." "Why?" Nefret demanded. "I have never behaved like a proper Moslem lady and I won't do it now!" "The majority of the Tebu are peaceable enough, but the renegades among them are the most dangerous raiders in the Western Desert. They still take slaves," Ramses said through tight lips. "This fellow may be another of Father's old friends, but I see no sense in waving a tempting morsel like you in front of him. Get inside." "But--" "Mother, make her go, or I will." "You are right," I said. "Come, Nefret. We can peek through a crack." We beat a hasty retreat and just made it inside the tent before Emerson and his "guest" entered the camp. At the sight of the latter, Nefret's resentful scowl faded. Of medium height, dark-skinned as a Nubian, and lean as a feral dog, he was not an impressive figure physically, but there was a certain look about him--the look of a man who acts as he chooses with no inconvenient interference from his conscience. He seemed to be in quite a jovial frame of mind, his bearded lips parted in a smile; but as he settled himself on the rug and accepted a glass of tea, his eyes moved around the camp, as if taking stock of our numbers and our gear. Then they fixed on Ramses, who was sitting cross-legged next to him. "Your father tells me it was you who shot the sword out of my hand. A lucky shot." "I hit what I mean to hit," Ramses said, looking down his nose at the other man. "I could have put the bullet through your head if I had wished to. You were wise to turn aside when you did." It wasn't like him to boast, but, as he knew, modesty is wasted on Arabs. The man, whom Emerson had introduced as Kemal, acknowledged the retort with a nod and a grin. "It was the sight of your father that turned me aside, boy. They did not tell me this was his caravan." They were all speaking Arabic, except for an occasional aside in English from Emerson to Ramses, or vice versa. "Who hired you?" Emerson demanded. "A man of honor does not betray his employer" was the smooth reply. "Secrecy was part of the agreement." "It seems an unnecessary part," said Emerson, equally bland. "If your aim is to leave none alive to tell the tale." "But no, Father of Curses, that was never our aim." He widened his eyes and shook his head. "We were told you had money--many camels--weapons . . . Other treasures." He looked toward the tents--the only places of concealment. Ramses stiffened, and Emerson said in English, "Don't look round." To Kemal, he said, "So you were to have these . . . treasures as your reward for--what? For massacring the lot of us?" "But I said it, Father of Curses--I did not know it was you." He grinned. "If I had known, I would have asked for payment in advance." "And now?" Holding his glass as delicately as a lady might hold her cup, Kemal finished his tea before he replied. "We would overwhelm you in the end, but you would kill many of us first." He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "I ask myself whether the cost would be too high." "This is becoming tiresome," said Emerson to Ramses. "And time is passing. Have you any suggestions?" "He wants a bribe." "Naturally. The question is, will he stay bribed?" He turned back to his guest and shook his head. "My son is young and hot-tempered. He tells me that if your men attack, you will be the first to die. In the name of our old friendship, I would regret that." "So would I," said Kemal, with admirable candor. His eyes shifted sideways, toward Ramses, who stared stonily back at him. "Hmmm. Perhaps we can come to an agreement." After some discussion, a barbaric little ceremony ensued. At Emerson's request, Ramses handed over his knife. Emerson drew the blade across his palm and handed the knife to Kemal, who did the same. They clasped each other's hand and maintained the grasp for several long seconds, while their mingled blood dripped down onto the sand. Then Kemal offered the knife to Ramses. It was clear that he was not simply returning the weapon, but proposing a similar ceremony. Eyebrows raised, Ramses looked at his father. Emerson, who was (confound the man) wiping his bleeding hand on his trousers, nodded and watched benignly while Ramses and the bandit also became blood brothers. The look of barely concealed distaste on my son's face would have been amusing if the situation had been less grave. "In the name of God the Great," said the marauder piously. He made another leisurely survey of the camp. I could almost hear him counting to himself. A dozen armed men--and Daoud, who had not taken his eyes off Kemal and who looked willing and able to murder him with his bare hands. "So," he said. "It only remains to seal our friendship with an exchange of gifts." After further discussion and the presentation of a heavy leather bag, Emerson escorted his dear old friend to his camel, and Nefret and I emerged from our hiding place. "Is it safe to come out now?" I inquired--somewhat belatedly, since we were already out. "He's riding off," said Ramses, who had been watching them. "But you might have waited until I told you it was all right." "Bah," said Nefret, brushing sand off her front. Emerson came back, looking somewhat pensive. "Well?" I demanded. "I didn't understand everything that was said, you were both talking so rapidly toward the end, but I saw you hand over what appeared to be most of our remaining money. How are you going to pay the drivers? Shouldn't we move on at once instead of waiting for nightfall? Why didn't you insist he tell you who hired him? How do you know you can trust him to stay bribed?" Emerson sat down, his back against the nearest camel, and took out his pipe. "I beg you will keep quiet for a while, Peabody, while I explain the subtler nuances of our encounter." "I saw nothing subtle about it. His meaning was clear; he had been told to intercept and rob us, if nothing worse; his reward would have been money, modern weapons, camels--and Nefret." "And you," said Emerson. "He said 'treasures.' Plural." "Oh, bah," I exclaimed. "Don't tease, Emerson, I really cannot endure your idea of humor just now. He couldn't get much of a price for a--er--mature lady like myself." "Now there you are mistaken, my dear. There is one individual who would pay any price, including his fortune, his life, and his sacred honor." In the intense warmth of those keen blue orbs my vexation melted. I could even forgive him the florid rhetoric. One gets into a certain verbal pattern after speaking a formal language like Arabic. And I knew he meant every florid word. "More than one," said Ramses matter-of-factly. "Kemal's primary purpose was robbery and abduction, though he would not have balked at killing a few people. We would have been taken prisoner and held for ransom. The drivers--those who survived-- would have been left here without transport or water. Some of them might have made it back to the river." "Might," Nefret repeated. "The man is completely without conscience!" "Not at all," said Emerson, smoking placidly. "His moral principles are different from ours, but he will not break them, always supposing one can pin him down in such a way that he cannot squirm out of a promise. I believe I have done that. Anyhow," he added, smiling at Ramses, "that flamboyant gesture of yours wasn'twasted. He has a very healthy regard for his own skin, and a very healthy respect for your marksmanship. It was quite a compliment for him to offer blood brotherhood." "It was a lucky shot," Ramses said flatly. "But next time, if there is a next time, I am reasonably certain I can put the bullet into his body." "That's horrible," Nefret exclaimed. "Not nearly as horrible as what might happen to you if you fell into his hands," Ramses retorted. "You aren't in jolly old England, Nefret, nor in Egypt, where your person is sacrosanct." "Now, now, don't quarrel," said Emerson. "There won't be a next time. He was honor-bound not to betray the name of the man who sent him, but he dropped a few hints. It was Mahmud Dinar, the governor of Darfur. We would have been handed over to him, and he wouldn't run the risk of taking English persons prisoner for the sake of a paltry ransom--or even for Nefret, though I expect he would regard her as a pleasant bit of lagniappe. He must be after Merasen's gold, or rather the location of the place from which it came." "He would have questioned us," Nefret murmured. "Torture?" "Oh, yes," said Emerson placidly. "And we would have told him." His eyes moved from Nefret's white face to Ramses, who sat with head bowed, staring at his clasped hands. "You owe Ramses an apology, Nefret; he was not being vindictive, he was being practical." After I had cleaned and bandaged the cuts on their palms, Emerson ordered us all to our tents. Though he had expressed confidence in the honor of his bandit friend, he took the precaution of arranging for sentries. He took the first watch himself. Nefret, who had spoken very little, went off without further comment, and as I watched her drooping little figure vanish into her tent, I decided I would have to have a word with her if she did not snap out of it. We could not afford girlish qualms or sulks. It was so unlike her! I supposed she was still upset about Merasen--unwilling to accept the evidence of his treachery and resentful of the rest of us for suspecting him. Especially, and unfairly, of Ramses. He had been quite right to scold her. Sleep did not come easily, but stern self-discipline prevailed. I did not even hear Emerson return. When I woke, later in the afternoon, he was snoring placidly beside me. I crawled over him and went out, to find most of the men in the same state of somnolence, and Ramses standing guard behind a convenient camel. "All quiet?" I inquired. "I assure you, Mother, that if it had not been, you would have been made aware." His eyes, squinted against the glare of light, continued to sweep the horizon. "Do you share your father's belief that we can trust in that scoundrel's word?" Ramses lowered the rifle and turned, leaning against the camel. "You didn't hear what he said just before he left?" "I heard, but I did not understand all of it." "It was a warning. The word has spread among the Bedouin that a group of Inglizi are heading west with a rich caravan. Some of them consider infidels fair game." "That is very comforting, I must say." "You would not accept a comforting lie." "No." I cleared my throat. "Er--I have a little favor to ask." "Of course, Mother." He spoke absently, without looking at me. "If we are attacked and overrun, and all hope is lost, will you be obliging enough to shoot me?" That got his full attention. He whirled round, the orbs that were usually half veiled by lowered lids and long lashes wide with consternation. "For the love of God, Mother!" "Don't tell me the possibility of some such contingency arising had not occurred to you. I saw how you looked at Nefret this morning. Nefret too, of course," I added. "Nefret too," Ramses muttered. He passed his hand over his mouth. "Do you mind which I do first?" "I know it is asking a great deal of you, my dear," I said, undeceived by his attempt at insouciance. "But I cannot depend on your father to do it. He is such a confounded optimist that he might wait too long. I feel sure I can count on you to assess the situation accurately. Premature action would be equally ill advised." "That is certainly one way of putting it." Ramses rubbed his bristly chin. He had neglected to shave that morning. I reminded myself to keep closer tabs on him and his father. Emerson would certainly grow his confounded beard again if I let him. "You realize, don't you," Ramses said, "that if I miscalculated with--with you and Nefret--and escaped death at the hands of the bandits, I would have to turn the gun on myself? Assuming Father didn't shoot me." His voice was uneven, and his mouth was twitching. "Ramses, are you laughing?" "No! Well . . ." He got his mouth under control. "It was such an appalling suggestion that I couldn't ... I couldn't take it seriously." "Laughter can be a defense mechanism," I explained. "I was quite serious, of course, but perhaps I was asking too much. Never mind, I will just do it myself." "I'll try, Mother." If I had not known better, I would have said there was a trace of moisture in his black eyes. "I can't promise more. But it won't come to that." "I don't suppose for a moment that it will. It is only that I believe in planning for all contingencies." "Yes, I know." His hand rested on my shoulder in a grip as hard as it was brief. "There's Father." "Say nothing of this to him." Emerson came striding toward us. The sun was sinking westward. After a comprehensive survey of the terrain he nodded with satisfaction. "You can relax now, Ramses. Come along, Peabody, don't stand here chatting, we must be on our way as soon as the moon rises." Our rather nasty meal of tinned tomatoes and rice was enlivened by a discussion with Masud. He was so terrified of Emerson that his voice kept breaking into falsetto, but he persisted in his complaints, which were, I was bound to admit, legitimate. He and his men had seen Emerson hand over a bag of money--their money. How were they to be paid? They deserved more than they had been promised. They had agreed to drive camels, not fight raiders. "Well, you didn't have to fight, did you?" Emerson demanded. "The power of the Father of Curses saved you, as it will continue to do. You knew and accepted the dangers of desert travel. You will get your money--more than you were promised, if you are faithful. And if you should fall, I will be a husband to your widows and a father to your children." "I'm not sure that was the right thing to say, Emerson," I murmured. Daoud cleared his throat, like a small rumble of thunder. "The word of the Father of Curses has never been broken." "Aywa," the wretched man mumbled. "Yes." "And," said Daoud, "the curse of the Father of Curses will follow a man to his death." "That's a good one," Ramses said appreciatively. "New, is it?" Daoud beamed and Masud backed off, wringing his hands and nodding energetically. Whether it was the promise or the implicit threat, he had been cowed, and although the rest of the men did not look happy, I did not believe they would rebel, as our former crew had done. Emerson agreed. "These fellows are loyal; they are only a bit timid. Ah well,