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Authors: Anthony Litton

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He
sat
down
to
a
stunned
silence.
No
one
had
expected
such
a
public
declaration
of
support
for
either
alliance.
That
he
had
come
out
so
openly
had
a
major
impact
on
the
gathering
and
Nasir
could
feel
it,
at
last,
and
slowly,
shifting
towards
the
Talal
faction.
But
not
yet
enough
to
ensure
victory.
He
could
sense
that
the
mood
was
still
finely
balanced
and
he
then
had
a
sudden
idea.

“I
would
like
to
hear
Ali
Ben
Youseff’s
opinions
on
this
matter,”
he
said
quietly,
stunning
the
gathering
and
almost
giving
the
podgy
little
man
a
heart
attack.
Like
many
of
the
wealthy
and
powerful
merchants
present,
Ben
Youseff
had
little
actual
wish
to
be
there.
He
had
even
less
wish
to
take
sides.
He
wasn’t
being
dishonest
in
this
reluctance.
He
genuinely
didn’t
care
which
side
Narash
backed

provided
it
was
the
winning
one.
And
if
it
wasn’t,
he’d
find
some
way
of
ingratiating
himself
with
the
one
that
did
win.
His
overwhelming
love
was
money,
and
amassing
as
much
of
it
as
he
possibly
could.
That,
and
his
obsession
with
his
new
young
wife,
taken
‘to
console
my
days
without
my
beloved
family,
tragically
left
behind
in
my
flight
from
the
tyranny
of
the
al
Saud
in
al
Hofuf’.
No
one
was
entirely
sure
why
he’d
not
brought
his
family
to
Narash
in
the
three
years
subsequent
to
his
flight,
but
felt
it
impolite
to
ask.

Having
been
called
on
to
speak,
and
by
the
powerful
co-regent,
meant
he
had
no
option,
he
was
just
unsure
what
to
say
that
would
offend
neither
of
the
powerful
groupings.

“Tell
the
chamber
about
when
you
helped
us
when
we
were
both
in
al
Hofuf,”
said
Nasir,
guiding
him.
“Not
about
the
outcome,
that
is
well
known

but
your
thoughts
on
the
Ottoman
presence
in
Arabia,”
he
added.

The
portly
merchant’s
dilemma
was
suddenly
even
more
acute.
What
had
he
said?
He
couldn’t
remember.
Every
day,
he
said
so
much
and
always
with
a
cool
eye
for
a
profit.
Much
of
what
he
said
was
spurious
and
even
downright
dishonest,
so
he
was
unsure
what
to
say
now.
Shrugging
fatalistically
he
decided
he
might
as
well
be
truthful.
It
had
the
value
of
novelty
after
all.

“I... I...”
he
stumbled.
Then
he
took
a
deep
breath
and
began
to
speak
with
more
assurance.
After
all,
if
he
could
spin
lies
out
of
thin
air
without
a
second
thought,
telling
the
truth
should
surely
be
simpler.
“I
believe
that
the
Ottoman’s
time
in
Arabia
is
drawing
to
a
close.
Partly
it’s
the
pull
of
history,
but
more,
because
they
have
no
longer
the
will
to
fight
to
hold
what
is
theirs.
Even
if
they
did,
they
are
losing
more
of
their
empire
every
year

and
can
do
little
to
stop
it.
This
great
war,
in
my
view,
will
change
nothing.
There
is
a
lassitude,
a
lack
of
conviction,
of
involvement,
like
a
man
near
death;
not
always,
but
too
often
in
their
actions.
My
experience
of
the
British
is
quite
the
reverse.
As
do
many
of
you,
I
travel
often
to
Kuwait.
There,
though
scarcely
visible,
I
sense
the
British
presence

and
it
is
vigorous,
even
aggressive,
in
defending
not
just
what
they
believe
is
theirs,
but
that
which
they
want
also

which
is
not
always
the
same
thing!”
he
added
drily.
“Their
time
too
will
be
gone,
but
not
yet.
That
time
is
still
very
much
here
and,
I
believe,
their
presence
will
continue,
whenever
this
war
finishes

and
whatever
its
result.
The
British
value
us
only
as
a
means
of
protecting
their
route
to
India.
I
see
no
circumstances
in
which
they
will
value
us
less

and
see
no
loss
of
India
in
this
war,
which
is
overwhelmingly
being
fought
in
Europe.”
He
stopped
and,
bowing
slightly
to
Nasir,
concluded,
carefully.
“These,
Lord
Nasir,
are
my
views
and
I
hope
they
may
be
of
some
help
to
all
here
in
reaching
the
decision
they
feel
is
the
right
one
for
them
to
advise
the
regents
to
follow.”

BOOK: Swords of Arabia: Betrayal
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