Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (3 page)

“Friends,”
he
began,
his
voice
stronger
than
he’d
feared
it
would
be,
and
carrying
clearly
to
all
gathered
in
the
sheltering
hollow.
“we
have
suffered
grievously
in
losing
our
sheikh,
our
emir,
the
mighty
Fouad.
You
all
know
that
we,
men
of
Narash,
now
face
dangerous
times
if
we
are
to
survive
so
great
a
loss
and
remain
strong
enough
to
repel
all
who
wish
us
ill.”
He
paused,
and
saw
the
grief
and
exhaustion
on
their
weather-beaten
faces.
No
man
amongst
them
was
a
coward;
none
would
even
think
of
fleeing
a
battlefield,
even
outnumbered
ten
against
one.
Indeed,
many
there
had
been
on
such
battlefields
and
outnumbered
by
as
many,
if
not
more,
and
had
remained
unflinchingly
behind
Fouad.
And
there
we
have
it,
the
young
warrior
thought,
his
heart
clenching,
as
their
–
his
–
loss
hit
him
again.
Fouad
was
dead,
shockingly
and
unbelievably
dead,
and
in
circumstances
that
could
themselves
breed
trouble
in
the
future.
And,
unless
he
was
very
careful
in
the
next
few
tension-filled
minutes,
he
knew
that
everything
his
brother
had
fought
for
would
be
lost.
As
his
eyes
locked
for
a
moment
with
Zahirah’s,
as
she
sat
silently
looking
out
from
her
litter,
her
face
veiled
and
her
eyes
inscrutable,
he
knew
that
she
knew
it
too.

“We
have
to
return
swiftly
to
our
town
before
rumours
–
or
truth
–
create instability
and
allow
those
not
loyal
to
our
great
leader
to
rise
up
and
take
advantage
,
to destroy
all
he
–
and
we
–
have
built
up,
with
the
loss
of
much
blood.”
He
paused,
as
he
felt
his
back
spasm
and
tighten
around
his
wounds,
sending
yet
more
waves
of
pain
washing
through
his
body.
Nothing
of
the
anguish
showed
on
his
face,
however,
as
he
took
a
deep
breath
and
continued.
“I
am
taking
certain
steps
to
ensure
the
town
is
made
safe
for
us.
We
–
all
of
us
–
must
do
our
part
before
we
get
there.
We
must
travel
swiftly
and
stay
together.
I
want
no
wanderer
from
our
ranks
to
leave.
We
travel
as
a
body;
a
body
who
has
sworn
allegiance
to
our
late
emir,
and
thus
have
transferred
that
allegiance
to
his
chosen
successor
–
to
Talal!”

Almost
with
one
voice
they
echoed
his
cry;
almost
with
one
voice.
Zahirah,
missing
nothing,
saw
on
too
many
faces
that
their
allegiance
lay
elsewhere;
or
would
if
they
could
but
leave
the
column
and
reach
those
they
secretly
supported.

Nasir
had
also
noticed
and
his
next
words
carried
a
warning;
a
warning
which
all
who
knew
the
young
prince
were
well
aware
that
he
would
not
hesitate
to
carry
out.

“I
know
you
are
all
my
friends,
but
note
this;
should
there
be
any
amongst
you
whom
I’ve
misjudged
and
he
try
to
slip
away
unnoticed,
be
aware
that
my
guards
will
be
vigilant,
and
I
myself
merciless,
should
any
betray
my
trust.
And
now,
my
friends,
we
must
make
haste
–
you,
alas,
on
your
uncomfortable
mounts,
while
I
loll
in
shameful
luxury
on
the
back
of
my
trusted
companion
here!”
The
listening
warriors
laughed
as
he
pointed
comically
to
the
bad-tempered
camel
bearing
his
litter
as
it
was
brought
near
him
for
him
to
resume
his
invalid
status.
And
invalid,
Zahirah
saw
with
alarm,
was
what
he
seriously
was.
Had
it
not
been
for
Nawwaf
tactfully
leaning
in
and
supporting
him
as
he
turned
his
mount,
he
would
have
fallen.
And,
Zahirah
had
no
doubt,
the
hopes
of
their
house
with
him,
so
finely
balanced
were
things;
so
finely
balanced.

Chapter
Two

A
few
minutes
later,
the
column
was
again
racing
across
the
sands.
Once
more
at
the
head
of
the
column,
Zahirah
nodded
with
relief
as
Nawwaf,
sent
to
her
by
the
now
scarcely
conscious
Nasir,
hurriedly
explained
the
orders
his
friend
had
given.

He’d
sent
Abdul,
one
of
the
remaining
members
of
his
inner
band
and
one
of
his
most
trusted
men,
to
find
Mish’al
ibn
Nawwaf,
one
of
the
sheikhdom’s
fiercest
warriors
and,
though
still
young,
one
of
the
most
trusted
of
Fouad’s
chieftains.
At
present
he
was
patrolling
the
approaches
to
the
western
borders
several
days
travelling
from
the
coast.
He
had
orders
to
speed
back
to
the
town
and
protect
the
persons
of
Firyal
and
all
of
Zahirah’s
children,
by
both
Fouad
and
her
second
husband
Mohammed;
protect
all,
but
especially
Talal
and
his
male
siblings.
Nasir
well
knew
that
if
word
reached
the
town
of
what
had
happened
before
their
own
party
reached
there,
then almost immediately one
or
more
of
the
cabals
that
had
bedevilled
his
brother’s
reign
would
kill
his
heir
without
a
moment’s
hesitation.
This
would
be
swiftly
followed
by
the
murder
of
his
young
brother
and
his
half-brother,
Mohammed’s
son.
They would then
seize
the
throne; before
sending
out
the
order
to
kill
any
suspected
of
remaining
loyal
to
Fouad’s
line.
Such
was
the
way
of
things
in
Arabia.

He
also
well
knew
that
there
was
more
than
one
shadowy
grouping
competing
for
power,
and
it
was
inevitable
that
blood
would
be
spilt
when
they
clashed,
as
they
would.
In
hours,
if
they
were
not
careful,
the
emirate
would
be
plunged
into
bloody
chaos;
a
wounded
beast,
defenceless
against
ibn
Saud,
the
long-time
enemy
of
the
dead
Faoud,
should
he
seize
the
long- awaited moment
and
attack.

Throughout
the
long
hours
they
raced,
their
camels
eating
up
the
distance.
They
sped
on
even
into
the
inhuman
heat
of
the
midday
hours,
under
the
merciless,
glittering
disc
of
the
sun,
as
it
poured
its
almost
unbearable
heat
down
onto
their
heads,
protected
only
by
their
white
keffiyehs
or
headdresses.
Despite
their
speed
it
would
be
several
more
days
before
they
got
back
to
the
safety
of
the
town
nestling
next
to
the
blue,
cool
waters
of
the
Gulf.
Zahirah
also
knew
that
the
pace
they
were
setting
risked
great
harm
to
her
wounded
kinsman.
Had
things
been
normal,
she
would
have
left
him
with
a
strong
guard
to
follow
on
at
a
slower,
safer,
place.
That
she
couldn’t,
she
well
knew.
She
needed
his
status
as
a
warrior
and
close
kin
to
Fouad
to
keep
her
men
in
line.

And
so
their
race
continued.
Reluctantly,
Nawwaf
deputising
for
Nasir,
called
brief
halts
during
the
hottest
hours
of
the
days
that
followed.
Food
and
water,
the
minimum
necessary
to
keep
up
their
endurance,
were
consumed
impatiently,
almost
resentfully,
all
riders
anxious
to
be
on
their
way.

Then,
on
the
last
evening
before
they
expected
to
reach
the
coast,
as
they
briefly
rested
in
the
shelter
of
some
dunes before riding again
through
the
night,
a
shout
was
heard
from
one
of
the
guards
Nawwaf
had
placed
around
the
camp.
After
a
few
moments
a
man
was
dragged
into
the
firelight
and
thrown
down
at
his
feet
as
the
young
commander
was
talking
to
Zahirah.

“He
was
caught
trying
to
leave
the
column,”
shouted
one
of
his
guards.

Nawwaf,
nodded,
unsurprised.
He’d
known
that
with
every
mile
nearer
they
got
to
the
town,
the
risk
of
someone
trying
to
leave
and
race
ahead
grew.

“Who
were
you
trying
to
reach?”
he
asked
coldly,
his
usually
warm
features
now
closed
and
hostile.

“N…. n... no-one,”
the
man
stuttered,
his
fear
making
him
trip
over
the
very
words
he
hoped
would
save
him.
Despite
several
more
attempts,
he
refused
to
give
any
names.

“Time
is
short,
otherwise
we
would
bleed
the
name
out
of
you,”
Nawwaf
said
coldly.
“You
are
aware
of
what
the
Lord
Nasir
ordered
for
anyone
who
was
caught
trying
to
leave
our
ranks?”
he
asked,
looking
down
at
the
man
at
his
feet.