He said, 'It seems little to see at this moment, but it is the most wonderful sight to the desert traveller.'
'Yes, I should imagine it is. Raoul,' she turned her head, 'how did you find me?'
'Through the amulet. Ahmed recognised it and came to seek me.'
`I—I tried to bribe him to let me go.' She frowned,
wondering if she was imagining a slight restraint in him, and certain that the amulet held some significance which was still unknown to her. 'It seemed to startle him,' she said slowly, 'as though it meant something to him. He refused to take it, and I . .
She stopped, aware that she had made an admission she had not intended to make. She looked at him, and now she was concerned. `I—I didn't want to Try to understand, Raoul. I didn't want to part with it, but I was desperate, and it was the only thing I had with me that held value.'
quite understand. It was natural in those circumstances, however,' he turned and moved back in the direction of the camp, am glad that it was not necessary for you to part with it.'
Slowly she matched his pace, her hand going unconsciously to the charm at her throat. Do you want it back?' she asked uncertainly.
He paused. 'You wish to return it?'
No, it isn't that, it's—it's just that I know it means something special, and that in some way it had something to do with your rescuing me. But if you don't want to explain it doesn't matter. Only I know it has sentimental value to you and I don't want to take it from you because of that—that silliness that night,' she ended in a rush.
'Silliness?' He stopped abruptly. 'Sentimental value?'
There was such scorn in his voice she winced. 'Well, I didn't mean it exactly like that, I . .
think you had better sit down, Melissa, and I will tell the story. It is quite a long one, and the way in which history repeats itself should appeal to your
romantic English mind.'
He dropped down on to the sand and rested his arm across one crookedup knee. 'You may have noticed that some of the Berber women bear a tattooed mark on their chins?' She nodded, and he went on : 'It is the emblem of their particular tribe, deriving from the language which has become lost in as far as it is written. The amulet is in the shape of one of those symbols. Ahmed recognised it instantly. It is one used by his own tribe. Therefore tribal loyalty immediately overcame his other instincts for selfgain. He ...'
'But he had a reason,' she interrupted. wanted ...'
Raoul gestured. 'Yes, he told me about the child and your promise. That matter is already in hand. Everything that can be done for the child will be done.'
He took cigarettes from his pocket and offered her one. When he had lit it for her he said, 'You are not cold?'
She shook her head. 'If you only knew what heaven it is to see the stars and feel free again after that ghastly stone cell!' A shiver came with the memory and Raoul gave her a curious glance.
'You feel free now?'
'Wonderfully so.'
'And Kadir no longer seems like a prison to return to?'
'A prison?' She started, unable to read his shadowy features, and memory rushed back, bringing a rush of colour which the night mercifully veiled. 'But it's different now, isn't it? I mean ...' She gestured helplessly and looked away.
'You did not feel that way during those first days in Kadir,' he said softly. wonder what has brought about that change of heart in you. Could it be that you now know from bitter experience that I did not act without castiron motive? Or did that English sentiment win and rouse your sympathies for my cousin?' The small scarlet tip of his cigarette described a glowing arc, then fell again. He looked down at the small averted profile and added, 'Or could there be some other reason?'
She thought she detected a note of mockery in his tone, and suddenly she was conscious again of the full disturbing power of his nearness. She said hastily, 'Of course there isn't—you were going to tell me about the amulet—and why do you keep mocking at my English sentiment? Your mother was English, wasn't she?'
'How did you know that?' His voice sharpened.
`Amorel told me.'
see.' There was a perceptible pause. Abruptly he buried his cigarette into the sand and stood up. 'Then you know the story?'
'Yes.' She also got to her feet, into a silence that suddenly seemed chill, and brushed the clinging sand from her robe. 'I'm sorry, Raoul,' she said sadly.
'There is no need to be.' He stood for a moment, looking down on the wide canopies sleeping under the veil of the silver moon. 'These are my people, as I am theirs. I am proud of the ties of blood and heritage.'
`The Berbers?'
'Did Amore' not tell you that part of the story?'
She stared at the hawklike profile, her eyes wide with bewilderment. 'She told me only that your mother deserted you when you were still a small
child.'
'The one I think of as mother was my grandfather's beloved wife. She was a pureblooded Berber girl, Melissa. That is the story behind the amulet.'
Apart from her now, across a chasm she could not cross, he strode down the dune towards the encampment.
CHAPTER VIII
A THIN ghostly mist hung over a blood red desert at dawn when Raoul drove away from the encampment. There was an eerie quality in that wild alien landscape, a lifelessness that matched Melissa's subdued mood as she settled down for the long drive that lay ahead.
Raoul was uncommunicative, withdrawn into that hard shell of self-sufficiency where she could not reach him. Beyond a brief greeting, and imparting the information that it would be evening before they got back to Kadir, he had hardly acknowledged her presence this morning and she could not help a feeling of hurt.
She sighed as the car gathered speed and wondered if she had imagined his tenderness the previous day when he had set her free and taken her into his keeping, wrapping the robe about her . .. She reached back into the dream, trying to recapture those nebulous moments when he burst into the cell and cradled her head in his arms. He had transformed the realm of nightmare into Elysium; but now .
The shadows of her thoughts made a curious hardness shield the blue of her eyes; memory would not match reality, any more than would those other memories, and only the heart of a fool would attempt to make them do so, even though, for so short an acquaintance, she seemed to have far too many memories of Raoul's arms .
Looking straight in front of her, she said, 'Will you make arrangements to take me back to Casa as soon as possible?'
'Of course. As soon as you wish. But you must be recovered from your ordeal before you make the journey.'
'I'm quite recovered now,' she returned coolly.
There was no response. She glanced sideways and saw frowning concentration on his face. It occurred to her that he was seeking some landmark and was thankful that she wasn't driving; to her untutored eye they were merely traversing a featureless waste of sand dotted every so often with patches of ilex and desert thorn, yet it never occurred to her to doubt Raoul's ability to get them safely to their destination.
After a little while the frown of intent cleared and he said suddenly : 'You're taking all this with remarkable calm.'
'I presume you know where you're going.'
'I didn't mean that—although I'm flattered by your trust.' His mouth flickered. 'I'm referring to this distressing experience you've suffered.'
`Oh, that !'
'I was expecting you to demand revenge, to flare at the fates for the indignity and the very real shock it must all have been.'
Her mouth curved bitterly. `It's over now. It doesn't matter.'
`Oh, but it does.'
She was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. Then she remembered that it could so easily have been his cousin and the brief warmth died. 'I had three days to rage and bemoan the fates,' she said
flatly. 'After a while one becomes spent. I don't feel anything now, only thankfulness that it's all over.'
'But it is not yet over. There is also the matter of Mah
moud—but of course, you will not know of that,' he interjected. 'Your assailants attacked and injured Mahmoud before they abducted you.'
'Was he badly hurt?'
'Fortunately, no. I had him taken to Casa where he is now recovering.'
'Who's looking after Amorel?' she asked, after a slight pause.
'Amore' is also back in Casa.'
Melissa turned to look at him, surprise breaking her calm. 'You sent her back alone?'
`No, with my lawyer. She is staying with Sonia.' Melissa sank back and returned to contemplation of the scene ahead.
'She is being well cared for, but the danger is past now,' he said calmly, then shot her a brief glance. could not leave Kadir until we had found you.'
She said nothing, aware of a coldness that could not be dispersed, even by this last statement.
He said, 'If it is any consolation, every effort is being made to find those men, and lay the blame where it originated.'
Suddenly she felt weary. None of it seemed to matter anymore. Because already there was a sense of finality taking over. Soon she would be on the way back to England. Home. A pleasant bungalow on the outskirts of Odiham. She had to start looking for a job and her mother was going to ask hundreds of questions, very few of which she would dare answer with strict truth. It all seemed so far away from these hot
desert skies, yet in a very short time she would be looking back on these events and they would seem far away and strangely unreal. Raoul would join Amorel and Sonia, a shadowy woman she could not visualise, who, nevertheless, was very real, and they would celebrate Amorel's good fortune. No doubt time would sort out Amorel's problems; time took care of all things in its slow but inexorable way. Avril would go her own sweet way, which for a while would concur with that of Philippe St Clair. Yes, it would all work out for them all, and the only one who had suffered .
'What time is it, Raoul?' she asked abruptly.
'There is a clock on the dash,' he reminded her dryly. 'Or has it stopped?'
'No.' She turned away and stared dry-eyed out of the side window.
A little while later he stopped for coffee from the flask he had filled that morning at the camp. She sipped it, staying silent and away from him. The calm she had gathered about her had been hard won; it could easily be destroyed and she was thankful when he started off again almost immediately. Then he said suddenly : We should reach Tell Arif within an hour.' The name meant nothing to her and he went on : 'It's a small watering place. We will eat our lunch there and stay for three or four hours until the intense heat of noon abates slightly.'
'Three or four hours!' Melissa could not check the exclamation.
'We have to cross a sand sea afterwards. You would not be able to endure the heat, apart from the effect it has on the engine.'
Her heart turned over. She knew enough of the desert and Raoul to know that whatever course he adopted was the wisest one, but the thought of several hours alone in his company made her quail. The lesser of two evils ! Her smile was wry. Already it was unbearably hot and her eyes ached from the glare. Perhaps there'd be shade at the oasis, and cool water . . . The horizon was like a lake, she reflected. Shimmering waves of ochre under a sky like burning bronze. It was easy to understand how travellers hastened towards the mirage. The eyes played strange tricks, even as hers were telling her of a tall figure rising from the sand some distance ahead of the car.
She blinked. No one crossed the desert on foot, still less alone. But there was a second sand figure, rising, whirling . . . it was .. . Before she could speak the car stopped so suddenly she was thrown forward. Raoul said, 'Out—don't ask questions
'But ...'
To as I say !' Already he was out of the car, and the hot blast of wind that lashed in effectively silenced her exclamation.
A leaping spiral of dust clouded his figure as he ran towards the back of the car. She heard the boot open, and the mad whine of the wind, and even as she fumbled for the door handle the skies were darkening. A storm was threatening, the whirling figures whipped up spirals of dust, but why on earth get out of the car's shelter?
Nevertheless, it did not occur to her to disobey. She staggered as the wind caught her, and Raoul slammed the boot lid down, turning to her with a roll of white in his arms.
`Get the water flasks and the djellaba—quickly!'
'Yes ...' She leaned back into the car and groped for the things on the back seat. It had all happened so quickly. One moment nothing, then the peculiar hissing growl in the air, the onslaught of desert fury beleaguering them, filling her eyes with dust and stinging like a rain of hot needles on her face.
The robe billowed wildly as she emerged and she tugged the folds away from her face, struggling to close the car door. Raoul was crouching down; trying to secure the cover he had enveloped the bonnet in. She turned to try to help, and felt a resistance. A fold of the robe had caught in the door. Raoul straightened, and before she could stop it, the car door was sucked open by the force of the wind. It struck him full on the temple.
He staggered, put his hand to his head, and reeled against the side of the car.
Her cry of alarm was whipped away. She lurched towards him, grabbed his shoulder, and he straightened unsteadily, shaking his head. His lips shaped the words : 'Never mind,' and he seized her arm, urging her forward.
'Hurry !'
He half thrust her, half dragged her in a stumbling run. She clutched desperately at the flasks and the robe, bracing herself back against the wind that threatened to send her headlong. Half blinded' by dust, she lost first one barouche, then the other, and hardly realised she had done so during that mad rush for the crescent shaped crest Raoul was making for, until the burning heat of the sand struck at the soles of her bare feet.
Her breath was sobbing from her and existence centred on the hard fingers biting into her arm. It was the only thing that seemed to keep her free of an elemental force threatening to integrate her into the whirlwind of dust.
Then they were dropping down. There was a respite that was unbelievably calm, but it was a temporary illusion, she realised as Raoul made unerringly for a hollow and tried to line it with the djellaba.
Down—quickly, and cover yourself.' He thrust her down as he spoke and flung himself full length beside her, drawing the folds of the robe across to shield her.
We—we'll be buried!' she exclaimed frantically. `We ...'
'Keep your head down. Make the most of what shelter we have.'
'But why not stay in the car? Instead of ...'
It's the irifi—the wind from the south that we dread. It is quite likely to bury the car with us inside. Pressure could prevent our opening the doors, apart from the risk of suffocation. We are safer here.'
She subsided, her breathing beginning to steady, and then became aware of a new agitation that had nothing to do with the storm. For those breathless minutes the sandstorm's fury had driven everything else out of her mind, but now, plunged suddenly into this small haven, she came to full consciousness of Raoul's nearness, his arm still curved protectively across her body. She stirred uneasily and said raggedly : 'The flasks are they ...?'
'They're here. Do you want a drink?'
`N -no, not yet.' She licked lips dry with sand. 'How long will it go on?'
She felt his slight shrugging movement. 'Who knows? Hours, perhaps.'
'Does that mean we have to ...?'
'I'm afraid so.' His voice was flat, betraying no fear, and she shivered.
`Try not to be afraid.' His hand tightened with momentary reassurance on her shoulder. 'People do survive the irifi.'
'But what if the car is buried, and we—we can't find it?'
'Don't think about it.'
She fell silent, trying to push the dreadful thought out of her mind. The sun had vanished and the strange uniform hue hung over everything. It was as though some artist had taken his brush and varnished land and sky with a hot sullen burnt orange. The sand was invading every fold of clothing, filmi
ng the skin with that ochrous tinge, clinging and abrading, and the wind brought only fresh waves of heat to a body that already burned unbearably. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat. The storm centre of heat lay in Raoul's touch on her shoulder, she couldn't bear it a moment longer . .. She twisted restlessly, brushing sand sticky tendrils of hair away from her face, and whispered : 'Please, I must have a drink.'
Instantly he moved, uncorking the flask and holding it out to her. 'Be careful,' he warned as she took it, 'do not drink more than you need. It may have to last us a long time.'
She stared at him, trying to still the quakes of unease, then took a sip and held the flask out mutely. Then, as he took it and replaced the cap, she saw the great darkening bruise against the deep tan on his
temple. Instinctively her hand went out.
`Raoul—your head! There's an enormous bruise. It's swelling.' She made to take the flask' of water again. 'Let me bathe it. It looks ...'
'Are you crazy? Waste precious water on a bruise! Melissa, do you not know ...'
Just a little to cool it.' Her eyes distressed, she pleaded. 'It must ache dreadfully.'
'It doesn't.' He put the flask down behind him and turned, to meet her anxious stare. 'Don't look at me like that, Melissa.'
'Like what?' She started back.
'With that expression I have seen before.'
A dark intensity had entered his gaze and it held a disturbing quality. She shook her head, failing to understand, and he said coldly : 'It is the look you have for a stricken animal, filled with pity and misplaced sentiment.'
The hard tone stabbed at her and instinctively she took refuge in defence. can see sympathy is misplaced. How else can I. look at you? As though I couldn't care less?'
'Any way you like.' He took a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped sand from his brow. 'As long as you remember that I am first a man and not in need of your sympathy.'
The house of the Amulet Page 14
