‘It seemed to cause quite a stir in the Foreign Office.’
‘But what about the Company?’
‘It put the shares up,’ I said, trying to lighten it for him.
‘Hell! is that all?’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘And I’ve been sitting here … waiting, hoping … ‘ His shoulders had sagged again and he stared out into the throbbing glare, his eyes narrowed angrily. ‘All these weeks, wasted-utterly wasted.’ His voice was bleak. He looked weary -weary and depressed beyond words. ‘I suppose you think now I’ve behaved like a fool - disappearing like that, pretending I was dead? But please try and understand.’ He was leaning towards me, his face young and defenceless, his voice urgent now. ‘I was on my own and I knew there wasn’t any oil where my father was drilling. I ran a check survey without his knowledge; it was an anticline all right, but badly faulted. It couldn’t hold any oil.’ His voice had dropped to weariness again. He’d been over all this many times in his mind. ‘I don’t know whether he was kidding himself or trying to cheat the Company or just doing it to get his own back on Erkhard. But I wanted the Company to drill on my locations, not his. I wanted oil. I wanted it for Saraifa and I wanted it to be the real thing.’
‘Your father wanted it, too,’ I said gently. ‘And he, too. was convinced there was oil where you did your survey.’
That’s not true. He refused to believe me. Told me I was inexperienced, that I’d no business to be on that border and forbade me ever to go near it again.’
‘I think,’ I said, ‘you’d better listen to what I have to tell you.’
The coffee was ready then and I waited until Ali had poured it for us from the battered silver pot. It was Mocha coffee, bitter and wonderfully refreshing, and as I sipped the scalding liquid I told him the whole story of my journey and all that had happened. Once whilst I was telling it, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.’ And later, when I came to the point where Gorde had left me with Entwhistle and we’d been fired on, he apologized again. ‘I’m afraid you’ve had a hell of a time, sir, and all my fault.’ That ‘sir’ took me back, for it still didn’t come easily from him.
But it was my account of that first interview with his father that really shook him. When I had explained to him what his father had been trying to do, he was appalled. ‘But Christ! Why didn’t he tell me? I’d no idea. None at all. And when Khalid told me he’d been to see the Emir of Hadd … ‘ He stared at me, his face fine-drawn, his voice trembling as he repeated, ‘Why the hell didn’t he tell me what he was trying to do?’
‘I think you know why,’ I said. ‘You were employed by the Company, and the Company to him meant Erkhard.’ And I added, ‘Erkhard knew your background, didn’t he? He used that as a lever to get you to spy on your father.’
It was a shot in the dark, but it went home. ‘He tried to.’ His tone was almost sullen; he looked uncomfortable.
‘And you agreed?’ I’d no wish to conduct a cross-examination, but I thought it essential he should see it from his father’s point of view if I were to succeed in bringing them together again.
‘I hadn’t any choice,’ he said, stung to anger by my question. ‘Erkhard threatened to turn me over to the Cardiff police.’
‘And your father knew about that?’
‘It didn’t mean I was going to do what Erkhard wanted.’
‘But you’d agreed to do it,’ I insisted, ‘and your father knew you’d agreed.’
‘I suppose so.’ He admitted it reluctantly. ‘He’s still got his friends inside the Company.’
So there it was at last, the basic cause of the rift between them - the thing that girl Tessa had hinted at, that Sue had felt but hadn’t been able to explain.
‘Christ!’ he said. ‘What a bloody stupid mess! And all because we didn’t trust each other like we should have done. How could I guess what he was up to? Though it’s just the sort of twisted, devious approach … ‘ His voice faded and once more he was staring out into the void. ‘I got very close to him at one time, but even then I was always conscious of a gulf, of something hidden that I couldn’t fathom. He’s very unpredictable, you know, Mr Grant. More Arab than the Arabs, if you see what I mean.’ He was very much on the defensive then. ‘After four years I can’t say I really understood him. Switching races like that, and his religion, too - it left a sort of gulf that couldn’t be bridged. And when Khalid told me he’d been to see the Emir, it made me wonder … ‘ He hesitated. ‘Well, as I say, he’s unpredictable, so I decided it was time I put my plan into action and disappeared. Khalid thought so, too.
Ill
He’d brought Hamid and AH, two of his most trusted men. and a spare camel. So … ‘ He shrugged. ‘I knew it was hard on Sue. Hard on Tessa, too- and on my mother. But I was alone, you see. I’d nobody to turn to, except Khalid He was the only man in the world who had faith in me. And I couldn’t look to the Company for help. Erkhard had made that very plain. And anyway, oil companies are in business for themselves, not for the Arabs. They’ve beer known to sit on an oilfield for years for political or commercial reasons … ‘ The sweat was pouring off him and he wiped his hand across his brow. ‘Well, go on,’ he said. ‘What happened when Erkhard came to Saraifa - die my father succeed in getting a concession signed?’
But I think he’d guessed that I shouldn’t have come here alone if it were all settled. He listened, silent, not saying a word, as I told him the rest of my story. Once his eyes came alight with sudden excitement; that was when I told him or my second talk with Whitaker and how Khalid and I had seen the drilling rig being dismantled for the move up to the Hadd border. The thought that his father was at last doing what he’d been wanting him to do for so long gave him a momentary sense of hope. But it was only momentary, for I went straight on to tell him of the scene at Dhaid and how the lone rider had brought the news that Gorde and Erkhard had left and Hadd forces had crossed the border into Saraifa. ‘So it’s come to that, has it? Open war between Hadd and Saraifa.’ His body was suddenly trembling as though with fever and his voice was bitter. ‘And Khalid sent you to me. What did he say before you left? What message did he give you?’
‘He said he thought this time Saraifa had reached the point of desperation.’ And I gave him the gist of what Khalid had said to me. When I had finished he didn’t say anything for a long time, sitting there lost in thought, staring out across the flat misery of the Umm al Samim ‘The only home I ever had,’ he whispered. ‘Did you see it when the shamal was blowing, with the Rub al Khali like a sea, the dunes all smoking and the sands pouring into the date gardens? It’s like a flood then.’ His father’s words - his father’s voice almost. ‘The oasis is doomed, you see. Doomed to extinction by the desert. But that’s a natural process; something to be fought with the natural resources of the country. Khalid and I, we were going to rebuild the old falaj channels with the money from oil royalties. That was our dream. But this … ‘ He stared at me hard, his eyes wide. ‘You’re sure it’s war, are you? It’s not just a border raid?’
I gave him Khalid’s speech then, as near as I could remember it word for word.
‘So it’s my fault, is it?’ He said it with deep bitterness and after that he was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked at me. ‘Unto death, you said. Khalid used those exact words, did he?’ And when I nodded, ‘So it’s not just a raid-it’s the real thing this time.’ He was almost in tears, he was so deeply moved. And then sadly: ‘My father’s fault, too -he’s made his decision too late.’ And he began cursing softly to himself. Those dung-eating bastards from Hadd, they’ll smash down the last of the falaj channels. What would have taken twenty years by natural means will take less than that number of months. The desert will roll in. Christ Almighty! The bastards!’ It was a cry from the heart and I was conscious of desperation here, too - a desperation that matched Khalid’s. ‘They can’t fight a war against Hadd. They’ve nothing to fight it with - only antiquated guns.’
He began questioning me then, p
ressing me for details, many of which I couldn’t give him, for he wasn’t interested in his father now, or Gorde or the Company; his attention was fixed on Hadd and the way Sheikh Abdullah, the Emir’s representative, had behaved, and what had passed between him and Sheikh Makhmud that morning before Whitaker and Erkhard had arrived. The sun sank in a blood-red haze and the air became dank. My head nodded, my body suddenly drained.of warmth and shivering with fatigue. ‘You’d better get some rest now,’ he said finally. ‘We’ll be leaving as soon as the moon’s up and it’s light enough to see our way through the quicksands.’ He seemed to have reached some decision, for his voice was firmer, his manner less depressed. He brought me a tattered blanket musty with sand. ‘I’ve kept you talking when you should have been getting some sleep.’
‘What do you plan to do?’ I asked him. ‘You’ll go to your father, I take it?’
‘Yes. He’s still got a few of his bodyguard left. A dozen men and I could create a diversion that would keep the Emir busy until my father has time to make his influence felt in Bahrain. Khalid’s right. We must work together now - my father and I.’ The mention of Khalid’s name seemed to bring his mind back to his friend. ‘He said he was my brother, didn’t he? Unto death?’
‘Your brother, yes,’ I said. ‘But as I remember it, he used the words “into death” in connection with the Emir- “my enemy into death”.’
‘Well, pray God it doesn’t come to that.’ There were tears in his eyes and standing there, staring straight into the flaming sunset, he quoted from the Bible: ‘The Lord be between me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever.’
Dimly I recognized the quotation as the oath sworn by his namesake; I didn’t realize it then, but this was the covenant, sworn in the midst of the quicksands of the Umm al Samim, that was to take him to that fort on top of Jebel al-Akhbar and to the terrible final tragedy.
I saw the sun set and the quicksands turn to blood, and then the sky faded to the palest pastel green and the stars came out. Lying there, it was like being stranded on a coral reef in the midst of a flat lagoon. Sometime in the small hours the wind woke me, blowing a drift of sand in my face. The moon was up, but its face was hidden in a cloud of moving sand. There was no question of our leaving and I lay till dawn, unable to sleep, my eye-balls gritty, my nose and mouth clogged with sand, and when the sun rose all it showed was a sepia haze. We ate in extreme discomfort, the sand whistling like driven spume across the flat surface of the Umm al Samim.
The storm lasted until almost midday, and then it ceased as abruptly as it had started. We cooked a meal of rice and dried meat, and then we started back, collecting our camels on the way and struggling through the quicksands to the solid desert shore. We mounted them and keeping the Umm al Samim on our left, rode till dusk, when we camped. A meal and a short two-hour rest and then on again with Salim arguing sullenly. ‘The old fool thinks the beasts will founder.’ David’s face was grim. He was in a hurry and he had no sympathy for men or beasts. ‘Like all the Bedou he loves his camels more than he loves himself.’
We marched all night and there were times when I hoped the camels would founder. My muscles were stiff and aching, and where the wooden saddle chafed my legs, I was in agony. The starlight faded, swamped by the brighter light of the risen moon, and in the grey of dawning day we reached the big well at Ain. Salim went forward alone to water the camels, for early as it was there were others at the well before us. ‘Men of the Duru tribe, I expect,’ David said as we sat on the ground with the loads stacked round us, brewing coffee. ‘Salim will bring us the news.’
I dozed and woke to the sound of the old man’s voice. ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, for his face was lit by the excitement of some great event. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘He’s talked with some men of the Rashid, back from selling camels at Saraifa.’ David’s face was grey in the dawn. ‘They say there’s been fighting already - a battle.’
‘Between Hadd and Saraifa?’
‘It’s hearsay, that’s all. They don’t know anything.’ He didn’t want to believe it, but his voice was urgent as he gave the order to mount.
We loaded the camels in a hurry, and as we started out again, I saw that our direction had changed. I asked him where we were going and he said, ‘Dhaid. We’ll get the news there.’ And after that he didn’t talk. His mood was sullen and withdrawn, his temper short, and he answered Salim angrily whenever the old man protested at the pace of our march.
We rode all day and far into the night, and in the morning the camels were almost done, their pace painfully slow. We reached Dhaid a little after midday. Nobody came out to meet us. Camels dotted the limestone slopes of the hill and men lay listless under the walls of the village. Inside the arched entrance, the little open place was packed with people; whole families with their beasts and chattels were crowded there in the oven heat that beat back from the walls.
They were all from Saraifa - refugees; the atmosphere was heavy with disaster, the news bad. Two more falajes, they said, had been destroyed and a battle fought, out by one of the wells. Khalid was reported dead, his father’s soldiers routed. ‘Old-fashioned rifles against automatic weapons.’ David’s tone was bitter. ‘For months the Emir has been receiving a steady trickle of arms. And we’ve done nothing about it. Nothing at all.’
‘They’re independent states,’ I reminded him.
That’s what the political boys said when I told them arms were being smuggled in dhows to the Batina coast and brought by camel across the mountains. A perfect excuse for doing nothing. And now, if Khalid is dead … ‘ His voice shook. His face looked ghastly, the skin burned black, yet deathly pale. ‘Sheikh Makhmud’s an old man. He can’t fight this sort of a war. And the Emir has only to block two more falajes and his men can just sit and wait for the end.’
We left Salim with the camels and fought our way through the crowds to Sheikh Hassa’s house. We found him in the room where I had left Khalid a few days before. He was sitting surrounded by a crush of men all talking at once. The new rifle lay forgotten on the floor. Beside him sat a young man with long features that were tense and pale. ‘Mahommed,’ David whispered. ‘Khalid’s half-brother.’ He’d fled from the battlefield, but he’d seen enough to confirm the rumours we’d heard in the market place. The battle had been fought by the ninth well out along the line of the Mahdah falaj and the casualties had been heavy. Sheikh Makhmud himself had been wounded and the latest reports of survivors indicated that he had retired to the oasis with the remnant of his forces and was shut up in his palace and preparing to surrender.
David talked to the two of them for about ten minutes, and then we left. ‘Sheikh Hassa’s scared,’ he said as we pushed our way out into the shade of the alleyway. ‘All these frightened people flooding into his village … It’s knocked the fight right out of him. And Mahommed’s only a boy. Hassa will hand over Dhaid without firing a shot.’ He said it angrily, with deep bitterness. And he added, ‘Fifty resolute men could defend this place for a month - long enough to preserve its independence from Hadd.’
‘What about Khalid?’ I asked. ‘Did his brother say what had happened to him?’
‘No. He doesn’t know.’ His face was grey and haggard. ‘All this killing and destroying - it’s so bloody futile, a lust for oil. Can’t they understand the oil won’t last? It’s just a phase, and when it’s past they’ll be faced with the desert again; and the only thing that will matter then is what they’ve built with the oil against the future.’ And he added angrily, ‘The Emir didn’t care a damn about that border until my father got Gorde to sign a concession. It was just sand and nothing grew there. And then to cancel it … I can almost see the look on Sheikh Makhmud’s face that night. God!’ he exclaimed. ‘The callousness of men like Erkhard - Gorde, too. They don’t care. These people are human beings and they’re being mucked around by hard-faced men who think only in terms of commerce and money.’
We were out of the alley, back in the
glare of the crowded market place. He spoke to Salim and gave him money, a handful of Maria Theresa silver dollars poured from a leather bag, and then we settled ourselves in the dust by the entrance gate, leaning our backs against the crumbling mud walls amongst a crowd of listless refugees who watched us curiously. ‘I’ve sent Salim to buy fresh camels,’ David said. ‘We’ll leave as soon as he returns.’
‘How long will it take us to reach the Hadd border?’ I was feeling very tired.
But his mind was on Khalid. ‘I must find out what’s happened to him.’ He was silent a long time then, tracing patterns in the sand with his camel stick. And then abruptly he rubbed them out with the flat of his palm. ‘If he’s dead … ‘ His emotions seemed to grip him by the throat so that the sentence was cut off abruptly. And then, his voice suddenly practical, ‘In that case, there are his men. He had more than a score of them, a paid personal bodyguard. Wahiba mostly and some Rashid; all good fighters.’ He was staring hungrily out into the burning distance of the desert. ‘I need men, ‘he whispered, his teeth clenched. ‘Men who’ll fight. Not these—’ He gestured with contempt at the listless figures around us. ‘A score of men properly armed and I could put the fear of God into that bloody little Emir.’
I didn’t bother to ask him how, for I thought it was just wishful thinking and all in his imagination. My eyes were closing with the heat and the weariness of my aching muscles. I heard him say something about getting me to Sharjah as soon as he could and then I was asleep.
I woke to the voices of Salim and the two Wahiba; they were arguing loudly whilst David sat listening, a tattered Bible propped on the rifle across his knees. Two camels stood disdainfully in front of us. ‘They’ve become infected with the mood of this place, blast them!’ David closed the Book and got to his feet. A crowd was beginning to collect. He said something to Hamid and the man looked suddenly like a dog that’s been beaten. And then David took his rifle from him and handed it to me. ‘Come on!’ he said. ‘Let’s get going.’ He spoke angrily to the two Wahiba and then we mounted.
The Doomed Oasis Page 24
