Read Swords of Arabia: Betrayal Online
Authors: Anthony Litton
“Brethren,
uncles,
brothers,
cousins.
As
is
right,
amongst
you,
I’ve
remained
silent
until
now.
Which,
while
frustrating,”
he
added,
his
wry
humour
raising
a
laugh,
“was
also
of
immense
value
as
I
listened
all
the
more
closely
to
what
older,
and
no
doubt
wiser,
heads
than
mine
had
to
say
on
what
is
the
saddest
and
most
momentous
occasion
that
I’ve
ever
had
to
live
through
since
I
began
sitting
with
you
in
this,
our
family
council.
Saddest
that
we
are
without
our
kinsman,
Fouad...”
He
paused,
fearing
his
voice
would
betray
him.
Firyal
and
Zahirah
listened
intently,
their
eyes
missing
nothing.
They
saw
his
anguish
and
admired
the
way
he
mastered
it
and
continued
with
what
he
wished, and
needed, to
say.
“... And
momentous
because
to
have
lost
possibly
the
greatest
emir
Narash
has
ever
had
would
be
grievous
at
any
time.
But
for
it
to
happen
now,
during
what
are
perhaps
some
of
the
most
dangerous
times
we
have
ever
faced,
could
well
cause
some
of
us
to
wonder
how
we
will
surmount
our
difficulties,
survive
the
times,
without
Fouad.”
Pausing,
his
black
hooded
eyes,
so
like
Fouad’s,
raked
the
room,
gauging
it’s
mood.
“Some,
no
doubt,
feel
it’s
impossible
without
this
particular
one
of
our
kin
assuming
the
leadership,
yet
others
would
have
us
believe
that
another
is
the
only
one
who
can
lead
us
in
this,
one
of
our
darkest
hours.
Yet
to
say
that
is
to
deny
Fouad
his
greatest
legacy – Talal.
Yes,”
he
agreed,
seeing
many
eyes
move
automatically
to
the
boy
sitting
beside
him,
“but
more,
much
more
than
Talal
himself.”
Seeing
looks
of
puzzlement
on
many
faces,
he
paused
for
a
moment
and
then
continued.
“We
all
know
what
has
happened
in
previous
times
when
our
Emir
has
died.
Brother
has
fought
brother,
uncle
has
fought
nephew,
cousin
fought
against
cousin.
All
became
involved
in
the
blood-letting
whether
they
wished
to
or
not.
We
were
blessed
that
Fouad’s
own
succession
was
trouble-free
and
bloodless,
by
the
good-fortune
that
he
was
with
his
father
when
he
was
killed
and
other
contenders
were
scattered
far
and
wide.”
Firyal,
sitting
behind
the
screen,
reflected
that
had
she
been
both
able
to
speak
and
wished
to,
neither
of
which
applied,
she
could
have
told
the
assembled
gathering
what
had
really
happened
and
why;
also
how
much
planning
it
had
taken.
But
some
tales
were
best
left
untold,
so,
as
she
continued
to
listen
to
Nasir,
both
her
face
and
her
lips
remained
closed.
“Some
of
you
look
puzzled,
I
see,
but
it
is
the
simple
and
obvious
fact
that
we
are
sitting
here,
in
peace, discussing
who
will
take
his
place.
We
have
not
rushed
off
in
all
directions,
some
of
us
west
into
the
deserts,
some
east
across
the
waters;
all
trying
to
win
support
for
our
bid
to
become
the
next
emir.
Fouad
showed
another,
better, way
to
proceed.
It
was
to
discuss
amongst
ourselves
and
decide
in
peace
what
should
happen
next.
Logically
it
should
be
to
confirm
what
we
have
already
decided – that
his
son
should
take
his
place.
I
myself,
“
he
continued
his
voice
hardening,
“make
no
secret
of
my
support
for
my
brother’s
wishes.
Lest
anyone,”
he
added
calmly,
“feel
it’s
blind, and
perhaps
stupid, loyalty
to
a
dead
man
that
hinders
my
making
a
wiser,
better
decision,
let
me
tell
you
why
I
give
my
support
to
my
nephew.”
Here
he
turned
and
gave
a
quick
smile
to
the
young
boy.
“Not
only
do
I
believe
that
he
has
already
shown
traits
which
will,
in
due
time,
make
him
a
strong
and
wise
ruler,
it
goes
deeper
even
than
that.
It
rests
on
my
belief
as
to
what
would
happen
should
anyone
but
Talal
be
named.
Anyone
amongst
us
has,
by
blood,
some
claim
to
sit
where
Fouad
sat.
And
therein
lies
our
real
and
mortal
danger.
Like
all
of
you,
I
value
Narash
as
it
is,
independent
and
free
from
outside
controls
and
alien
ways.
I
think
I
speak
for
most
when
I
say
I
have
no
wish
to
again
have
the
Wahabbi
foot
on
my
neck!”