by Jane Jackson
Reluctant, but recognising what it meant to Antonia, Caseley drew the fine fabric of her scarf over her nose and tucked it into the band above her temple.
‘That’s perfect. Sit very still while I take the lens cap off. Now.’
Holding her breath until Antonia had put the lens cap back on, she released the scarf.
‘Being here for the wedding will have helped focus Imad’s thoughts on our future,’ Antonia confided as she took the plate from the camera and slotted it into the box. She looked up. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘I’m sure he’s had a great deal to think about.’ Caseley couldn’t give the encouragement Antonia wanted. The Sheikh’s attention was more likely to be on politics and family matters, but to suggest it would only cause ill feeling. Nor would Antonia believe her.
She caught her breath as her heart gave an extra beat at the sight of Jago and Robert Pawlyn coming towards them.
Pawlyn beamed with pleasure as Antonia waved and smiled. ‘Robert, I’m so glad to see you. Please will you ask the elders if they will permit you to take a photograph of them? Obviously they won’t allow me to do it. I can’t even photograph the women.’
His smile faded as he realised her warm greeting had a price. Caseley watched as disappointment gave way to acceptance.
‘It would be a waste of time.’
‘How do you know unless you try?’
‘Antonia, I’ve spent the past three days with these men. Because they are nomadic, meetings like these can happen only rarely. A lot must be discussed and decided in a short time. It’s a simple matter of priorities and implies no disrespect to you.’
Caseley suspected he was being less than truthful out of kindness. She could see Antonia fighting tears of sheer frustration as she huffed out an impatient breath.
‘I know it’s not the same,’ he went on, ‘but what about taking one of me?’ He gestured at his dusty robes. ‘I never imagined seeing myself dressed like this. I would very much like a memento of this trip. Then perhaps I could take one of you. Come on, I’ll help you move the camera. Where shall we set it up?’ He went to pick up the tripod. Antonia hurried after him, pointing and calling instructions.
‘He’s more patient than she deserves,’ Jago said.
‘She believes Sheikh Imad is about to declare himself.’
‘To her?’
Caseley nodded.
‘You aren’t serious.’
‘I am. It’s so sad.’
‘What is?’
‘That she yearns for Sheikh Imad while Robert Pawlyn yearns for her. He’s not blind to her faults but seems able to see past them.’
‘Indeed,’ Jago’s expression was cold. ‘Then he has better vision than I.’
Caseley changed the subject. ‘This morning’s meeting?’
‘Interesting.’ His expression was grim. ‘As some of the visiting elders only spoke dialect the Sheikh translated it into Egyptian Arabic so Pawlyn could keep me informed of what was being said. As a final persuasion Imad condemned Egypt’s Turco-Circassian ruling elite as having no honour. Honour is more important than wealth to the Bedouin. He is usually so formal and diplomatic. Yet this morning he spoke with barely-controlled loathing. I suspected there had to be a personal reason.’
‘And was there?’
Jago nodded. ‘During a break for coffee I asked him through Pawlyn. He was quiet for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he told us that a Turco-Circassian officer had raped the daughter of one of his uncles.’
Shock made Caseley gasp.
‘That’s not the worst of it.’ His mouth tightened. ‘She was then killed by her father and brothers.’
Caseley’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘What? Why?’
‘To erase the stain on the family honour.’ He kept his voice low. ‘I know this is a different country with different codes of behaviour, but even so –’ He shook his head. ‘Apparently Imad was fond of his cousin and at the time of the ... attack, marriage discussions were taking place between their families. I asked what was done about the officer. Imad had hoped for justice from the Khedive. But none of the officers would admit even knowing what had occurred. So his uncle organised a night raid. The officer was seized and brought to a desert camp for Bisha’a.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The accused must lick a metal spoon that has been heated in a fire then rinse his mouth with water. A burned or scarred tongue is proof that he lied. Only one particular elder can order this and he was away. But the officer had dishonoured the girl, her family and the tribe, and had to be punished.’ He paused, glancing away.
‘What happened to him?’
‘He was tortured then Imad ended his life.’
The brutality of it shocked her.
‘I shouldn’t have told you –’
‘I’m glad you did. As you said, things are different here. That officer’s attack on a defenceless girl led to her being murdered by her own family. He chose to do what he did. She had no choice at all. I cannot like the thought of torture, but his life for hers is justice.’
Jago touched her hand. ‘I was sure you would understand.’
‘One of Sheikh Imad’s bodyguards is coming.’
‘I must go.’ He hesitated. ‘Caseley, last night – I should have told you –’ His gaze held hers. ‘There is no choice for me. It’s you. It always was, always will be.’
Her heart leapt, relief made her legs weak, and she pressed a hand to her chest, watching as he joined Pawlyn and they returned to the meeting.
‘You’re looking very serious.’ Antonia shortened the last of the tripod’s telescopic legs, turned the securing wing nuts then fastened the leather strap that bound them together.
Caseley gathered her scattered thoughts. What had passed between her and Jago was private. She would never share it, not even with Rosina. ‘I’ve just heard something shocking.’
‘Tell me,’ Antonia demanded, laying the tripod on top of the camera box then straightening up.
Caseley repeated what Jago had told her.
Visibly startled, Antonia was silent for several seconds. ‘Well, it seems to me the officer got what he deserved.’
‘I agree. But there is another aspect to be considered. Do you not see?’
Antonia drew herself up. ‘For goodness’ sake, Caseley. Stop being so mysterious. Just say it.’
‘What kind of honour demands a woman’s death for something not her fault, something she could not have prevented? This code is completely different from everything you are used to –’
‘Yes,’ Antonia waved her to silence. ‘But it is desert culture. Of course Imad must show respect for the old traditions when he visits. It is his duty as a prince of his tribe. But this is not how he lives, or where he lives. He owns properties in Cairo and Alexandria.’
‘That has nothing to do with –’
‘No,’ Antonia cut across. ‘You have said your piece. Have the courtesy to let me say mine. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you have my best interests at heart. Though if you really cared about my happiness you would be more supportive. All I ever hear from you are warnings. Anyone would think you do not want me to be happy.’
The words landed like blows. ‘No! You misunderstand me. That is not at all –’
‘Yes, you suffered a grievous loss,’ Antonia continued, not listening. ‘I’m sure you had the sympathy of everyone you told. But you must accept that I know far better than you do what is best for me.’
Everyone you told. As if she had been begging for sympathy, when nothing could be further from the truth. As raw anger stirred, Caseley fought it down. Her intention had been to spare Antonia embarrassment. But she was wasting her breath.
‘You’re right,’ Caseley said quietly. ‘I should not have spoken.’
Antonia couldn’t hide her surprise. Then satisfaction smoothed away her frown and lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘We’ll say no more about it. I’m sure you meant well.�
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‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to the tent.’
‘Aren’t you bored with baking?’
‘No, I enjoy it. With so many extra guests, Fayruz is glad to have help.’
‘Go ahead if it makes you happy. I can see we were brought up with very different expectations. Carry this for me, will you?’ She handed Caseley the tripod, then picked up the camera box.
When they reached the tent, Caseley put the tripod down beside the fabric wall and lowered herself onto the rug beside Fayruz, who smiled warmly at Caseley’s murmured ‘As-salaamu aleikum,’ and returned the greeting.
Reaching for the pot of water, Caseley poured a little into her palm and washed her hands, wiping them dry on the end of her scarf. Reaching to pick up a lump of dough she felt a sudden tug. Her head was jerked back and both scarf and headband wrenched off.
There was a collective gasp and all chatter stopped as her reddish hair was exposed.
‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I tripped.’ Antonia moved on into the sleeping area.
Two women pulled their children away and made signs Caseley guessed were intended to ward off evil. Rashida scolded them. As more joined in, taking sides, the noise level rose.
Face burning, heart pounding in shock, Caseley twisted round to pick up the scarf and headband lying behind her.
Adding her voice to the argument, Fayruz gestured for Caseley to cover her head with the scarf while she quickly refolded the band and tied it in place for her.
She wanted to believe it was an accident. For Antonia to have done such a thing deliberately – Her entire body burned. Shame suffused her at having deceived them. Yet what else could she have done? The colour of her hair was outside her control, an accident of birth. She was the same person they had accepted, welcomed. But many who had smiled in welcome now glared in suspicion.
Caseley saw Sabra arrive from another tent with more women, who clustered around the tent opening. The Sheikha asked a question and the babble erupted again. They were speaking Arabic so Caseley could only guess at what was being said. Antonia emerged and shrugged, brushing it off as a simple accident.
Scathing and angry, Fayruz and Rashida made their opinion of her very clear. Antonia flushed.
Head down, her face hidden, Caseley edged backward then slipped out of the tent. Sabra found her sitting on a rock watching the camels.
‘Miss Collingwood has caused more harm to herself than to you.’
‘It doesn’t feel like that.’
‘Bedouin women are not stupid.’ She raised her hand before Caseley could speak. ‘I know you do not think them so. My point is that they have experienced your politeness, your willingness to help. They allowed you to prepare food with them and watched you comfort a child.’
‘But that wasn’t enough to overcome –’
‘You do them an injustice. Fayruz, Rashida and Zainab spoke strongly for you and others were persuaded.’
‘Many were angry.’
‘You will leave soon, so why does it matter?’
The question jolted Caseley. ‘I suppose I – I should have liked them to remember me kindly.’
‘What others think of you is not your concern. Have you enjoyed your visit?’
‘Oh yes. I had no idea what to expect. But it has been an amazing experience. One I will never forget.’ For so many reasons.
Sabra slipped her arm through Caseley’s. ‘I am glad. Come, we will return to the tent. It will soon be time to eat.’
Caseley held back. ‘Are you sure I will be welcome?’
Sabra’s brows rose. ‘You are with me.’
It was not the reply Caseley hoped for. But if the Sheikha’s patronage deflected any residual ill feeling, the remainder of the day and evening would be more pleasant for everyone. They were, after all, still celebrating the wedding.
She looked across the encampment. Outside the tents groups of elders were seated on the ground, around several cooking fires tended by young men. Boys hurried back and forth with armfuls of thorn and sacks of dried camel dung to feed the flames.
Jago was there with Sheikh Imad and Robert Pawlyn. But from this distance she could not pick him out from among all the others.
They reached the tent behind several others who had just arrived. Caseley withdrew her arm from Sabra’s. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stay back here.’ She indicated a spot against the side wall. ‘This is an important occasion for the ladies of the bride and groom’s families, and you are a guest of honour. Just being part of it is a privilege for me. Besides, after what happened earlier I would prefer not to be noticed.’
Sabra studied her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Your modesty does you credit.’
Knowing the compliment was undeserved, Caseley watched as Sabra was drawn into a group of women. She looked for Antonia and saw her on the far side of the tent opening, talking animatedly to the woman beside her. The woman gave her head a brief shake, then got up and moved away to another group.
Antonia’s smile froze and she glanced round, adjusting her scarf in an attempt to mask her embarrassment.
Sighing, Caseley raised her hand to catch Antonia’s attention. Though she would have preferred to sit by herself, had it not been for Antonia pressing Sheikh Imad for an invitation she would not even be here. Maybe Antonia wouldn’t come over.
But she did, dropping onto the sand beside Caseley, just as three older women and a pretty younger one arrived from another tent. The older women, clearly pleased, were talking excitedly. The younger one smiled shyly, glowing with happiness.
Other women got up and went to greet them, then clapped and squealed with pleasure.
‘What’s happening?’ Caseley asked.
‘An engagement has been arranged,’ Antonia said. Then her colour drained away, leaving her face ashen and slack with shock. ‘No,’ she whispered, stunned and stricken. ‘No!’
As two women glanced round, Caseley quickly got up, dragged Antonia to her feet and pulled her out of the tent. In all the excitement no one noticed them go.
‘He can’t – he wouldn’t –’
‘Lean on me.’ Caseley put a supportive arm around her. ‘We’ll go to the well.’ Hearing laughter and the sounds of celebration drifting across from the men’s camp she realised.
‘The engagement, is it Sheikh Imad?’
Antonia moaned. ‘Why did he let me think –?’
Caseley said nothing. She had not seen him do or say anything to give Antonia cause for hope. He had allowed himself to be persuaded to include herself and Antonia in the party. That had been Jago’s doing, because he had not wanted to leave her behind. From that single thread Antonia had spun a vivid tapestry of a future together.
‘You saw.’ Stopping suddenly, Antonia seized Caseley’s wrists. ‘You must have noticed how he looked at me. He can’t want this. He is being pressured –’
Caseley stood still. Surely Antonia knew better than to imagine Sheikh Imad would bow to pressure from anyone about anything? ‘I’m so sorry.’
Antonia’s expression reflected her agony. ‘I thought – I was sure –’ She flung Caseley’s hands away and her face contorted as she swiped at the tears that streamed down her face. ‘Go on, then. Tell me you were right all along and I’ve made a complete fool of myself.’
They reached the well. Caseley lowered the leather bucket, heard it splash and drew it up again as Antonia slumped down onto a stone. ‘Bathe your face and wrists.’
‘That’s supposed to make me feel better?’
‘No. But it will calm you and erase the signs of your weeping. Do you want their pity?’
‘No!’ Dipping one end of her head cloth into the water Antonia wiped her face and the back of her neck. Caseley did the same and the cool, wet cloth felt blissfully refreshing.
‘I can’t go back.’
‘To the tent?’
‘Where else?’
‘Yes, you can. If you show courage and dignity –’
‘Dignity?’ An
tonia gave a short, scathing laugh. ‘Oh yes, you’d know all about that. What is dignified about doing the work of a servant? What dignity did you show, crying over a child that isn’t even yours?’
Caseley’s heart thumped painfully as Antonia strode away. She closed her eyes. Antonia had lashed out because she was upset and embarrassed. Even if she was right, and Caseley had compromised her dignity, she could not regret it for she had gained far more than she’d lost. An arm encircled her shoulders.
‘There you are.’ Jago’s voice was gentle, his face thunderous. ‘I see Miss Collingwood has heard the news.’
Caseley nodded. ‘I – we –’ She couldn’t get any more past the lump in her throat.
‘Come, my love,’ he drew her away, walking her slowly towards Fayruz’s bayt. ‘Go and eat now. You must,’ he insisted gently before she could argue. ‘Sit with Sabra. She will make sure you are comfortable. May I pass on your good wishes to the Sheikh?’
‘Yes, please do. I realise it must have been a shock for her, but –’ she stopped, tried to shrug it off.
‘As soon as Sheikh Imad and his bride-to-be’s father announced the contract, I guessed what would happen. She behaves like a spoiled child. I wish I could have reached you before she –’
Caseley turned her face into his shoulder. ‘You came.’
‘I wish I could stay.’
Taking a deep breath she straightened. ‘I’m all right now.’
‘I had hoped ... but Pawlyn and I must honour our obligations as guests.’
‘Of course you must. You cannot risk the goodwill you have built up over the past few days.’
‘Besides, tonight we distribute the gold.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw.
‘What is it, Jago?’
His tension dissolved in a wry smile. ‘I have talked myself hoarse. No one could ever accuse me of patience but I have surprised myself. Pawlyn has been invaluable. He and the Sheikh negotiated with immense skill on my behalf.’ He rubbed his forehead.
‘But?’ she asked softly.
‘We have not achieved a commitment. Yet without the gold, we wouldn’t even have got this far. But our time is up.’
