“It is certainly being considered,” acknowledged Nasir. “Badr is still very strong in wanting our alliance to be renewed, even extended. Others are less so.”
“And you, yourself?” Kerim asked after a moment.
“I do not know, to be honest. And yes, al Hofuf and your force’s rout there is very much in my mind, as I ponder what we should do next.”
“As it should be,” the young officer conceded. “But, as was made clear yesterday, you are also aware that we are now revenging our years of weakness not too far to the north of here,” Kerim replied quietly.
Nasir nodded, smiling slightly as he recalled the surprise on the faces of the delegation when Badr had shown how up-to-date their own knowledge was of how affairs were going in the region. “One thing which will influence our decision,” he replied seriously, “is how sure we can be of receiving Ottoman support. The waters of the Gulf are all but closed to you, the British warships make certain of that. If your lines of communications across the deserts are broken, we could end up isolated and fighting both the British and ibn Saud. Not something that we would welcome!”
“The Rashid are still strongly with us and should our own sphere of direct influence cease or come under threat, any support you need would be safely channelled via Hail, their capital.” Kerim responded. “Such a situation doesn’t seem likely at present, however. Besides heavily defeating the Allies at Gallipoli, we shall soon force the surrender of one of their armies at Kut al Amara, as has long been expected. They’re surrounded and useless militarily, and it’s clear that they have no real choice but to throw down their weapons and concede defeat.”
“Yes,” Nasir responded. “And their surrender will be a great coup for your forces, but it will be one that gives us another problem,” he added. Seeing the enquiring look on his friend’s face, Nasir looked directly at him as he continued. “It will give you many spare troops to ride against us, should we choose the British,” he added bluntly.
Kerim, appreciating Nasir’s unusual frankness, responded in kind. “Indeed, and if not us, we could launch the Rashid against you. Your friends they may be at the moment, but give them the chance to extend their lands and gain access to the Gulf waters, I doubt they would need much encouragement or, indeed, gold, to attack you!”
Nasir nodded grimly. “As they attacked Kuwait a dozen or more years ago. Believe me, we are well aware of the possible limits to our friendship with them! And, of course, should the British feel aggrieved enough, or decide that we have sufficient importance to them, they could even more easily attack us either from the Gulf or overland from Kuwait. We would be hard-pressed to fight them off on our own,” he added, again frankly. “And if the Rashid were in one of their seemingly never-ending internal disputes, that is what we would be.”
“Not necessarily,” argued Kerim. “Should that be your only concern we could have troops here, in Narash itself. In sufficient numbers, their very presence would deter the British from attacking you.”
“And should you win the great war you are fighting, your presence would also protect us when ibn Saud next casts his eyes this way,” Nasir observed thoughtfully.
“You expect him to?”
“Yes. It is only a matter of time. He has difficulties at present trying to subdue the Ajman and other Eastern tribes who find his embrace as unwelcome as we do. Should he emerge triumphant, however, he will turn his eyes towards us, yet again.” He didn’t add that, at Zahirah’s suggestion, a number of the rebellious tribes were being heavily and quietly bankrolled by Narash. “Anything that keep the al Saud busy and away from our borders is well worth whatever it costs us in pearls and gold,” she’d said phlegmatically, as she authorised yet another large payment.
“Ibn Saud, in fact, said as much to the Lady Zahirah,” Nasir ended with a small smile, as he recalled the brief, but very much to the point, conversation that Zahirah and ibn Saud had had.
“They’ve met? asked Kerim startled. “The rumours are true, then?”
“Oh yes, they’ve met!” he responded and told his friend exactly what had transpired between Zahirah and ibn Saud at their brief and fateful meeting.
“Come,” he said, smiling at his friend’s dumbstruck expression, “let us return to our falcons and see if the rest of us can match your tally. Signal me if Talal becomes too boring and insists he share yet more of his ‘knowledge’ of falconry with you,” he added laughing.
Kerim shook his head as he joined in his friend’s laughter. “No, on the contrary, I found his enthusiasm refreshing. He was particularly impressed by your tales of how they capture young passager birds. I swear he has more than half a mind to try it himself!”
“The Lady Zahirah may be willing to allow her son out into the deserts for days such as this, but I doubt she would allow him to be buried up to his neck in sand!” Nasir laughed, referring to one of the ways some trappers hid themselves to enable them to capture a young falcon on their first annual migration. Though, he thought privately, there were a number she would have no hesitation in burying over their heads, when she deemed them too much of a threat to Talal. He was glad, he thought idly, that he wasn’t one of their number. Then he suddenly shook himself as, despite the intense heat, a sudden chill hit him between his shoulder blades. Shaking it off, with a little difficulty, he smiled, as he spoke of his nephew.
“It’s been good to see Talal enjoy himself today,” he remarked as the two friends returned to the camp. “He’s too young to have such a burden placed on him, so thank you for bearing with his exuberance.”
Kerim shook his head. “No thanks are needed, my friend. I like the boy. I have three brothers, two of whom are around his age, so I’m well used to showing amazement at how much they know!”
Talal, himself, aware of the unwritten reason behind the hunting party, looked about to question, but remained silent on a small shake of his head from Nasir.
Shortly afterwards, the sun’s blazing heat diminished to the merely excessive, they all re-mounted their horses. With their falcons unleashed from their blocks and again back on their wrists, the entire party let their youthful high spirits return and they galloped happily across the gravelly flats, alert for the signs from their trackers that prey had again been sighted. The men tracking were experts at what they did and the party didn’t have long to wait before the soft cry went up and the riders again prepared to release their birds.
“Ay -see there!” whispered Talal excitedly to Nasir, who turned and saw the small herd of gazelle grazing near a scrubby outcrop, that Talal’s sharp eyes had spotted almost as soon as had the beaters.
“Whose falcon will race first to harry the gazelle and give our dogs some sport?” challenged Fahad, immediately setting off a barrage of good-natured argument.
Nasir, enjoying the high spirits of the party, felt a light touch on his arm. Looking down he saw one of the trackers peering urgently up into his eyes.
“Lord,” the old man whispered, “it is not wise to stay. We smell a haboob approaching!”
A sandstorm! Instinctively, Nasir looked up at the skies, but could see nothing to alarm him. He knew better, though, than to ignore men far more experienced than he in the ways of the desert. Had he had any doubts, these were dispelled when Abdul, one of his most experienced and trusted men, rode up next to him, his lined face reflecting his concern.
“The man is well versed in such matters. It would be unwise to ignore his advice,” he murmured quietly.
Nasir, his mind made up, ordered an immediate return to the town. I would rather be seen as an old woman if the scout is wrong, he thought, than be caught in a haboob! Like all who inhabited the deserts or their fringes, he well knew the havoc that a sandstorm could cause. They could rage for many hours, if not days, burying men and animals so deeply that they could never dig themselves out. Those who did, faced a landscape totally changed from that which they inhabited before powerful, sand-bearing winds raced across the land, scouring out huge new dunes and
flattening others that had stood for decades.
Ignoring the cries of disappointment and surprise that greeted his decision, he immediately placed his mount next to Talal’s and ordered a swift race back to the safety of the town’s walls. Their horses were tired after their day of hard-riding and he blessed his foresight that he’d followed his now habitual practise of having a backup string of fresh camels, well-guarded, but ambling along behind the main party. Their freshness and superior endurance could well make the difference between getting back to the coast before the storm, or being engulfed in its deadly, swirling embrace. The race was on. Many of the riders kept their birds on their wrists, and held close to their bodies as, despite their headlong speed, this would unsettle the birds less than being separated during the wild race back to the town.
Once on the camels, their keffiyehs now tied securely across their mouths as well as their heads, they were scarcely minutes into their desperate flight back to the coast when it became very clear that the scout’s warning was frighteningly accurate. Looking back as they careered across the sandy flatlands, their robes billowing about them, Nasir saw the tell-tale darkening of the horizon behind them, Although distant at present, he knew the storm could engulf them with frightening rapidity, so he kept up their pace. All the while he scouted the land around them for any rocky outcrop, any wadi, anything that could give some shelter, however little, should the storm outrun them.
Nasir turned as, without slowing his racing beast, a laughing Kerim pulled along- side him, his dark, flashing eyes alight with the challenge. “Well, my friend, you most certainly know how to put a show on for your guests! A fitting end to an exciting day! Be assured should I ever have the opportunity to repay your hospitality, I shall do so in a similar manner!”
Nasir laughed back, though a trifle more grimly, his anxiety about Talal’s safety taking much of the pleasure out of the day’s final adventure.
“Do not worry, Nasir,” the young officer said, sensing his friend’s concern and its cause. “We will get the boy back safely. If we do get caught, we will all ensure he is kept safe!”
Nasir nodded his thanks as, wasting no more time in looking backwards, he pushed his mount even harder as he led the racing band in its headlong dash for the town.
Then, topping a rise only two miles outside the safety of the city’s walls, he did turn to look back, and realised that they had almost certainly lost their homewards race. The sky was filled with a towering, screaming wall of ferociously blown sand, a wall that was considerably less than two miles behind them, and gaining fast.
Nasir swept down the rise and, in one desperate final effort, all the riders plunged down the slope after him. Even as they did so, they were hit by the fringes of the approaching storm. They knew that within seconds their camels would lose all ability to see where they were going as their eyes filled with stinging, blinding particles thrown at their faces with the full fury of the raging beast threatening to devour them all.
As they galloped towards the town they saw, through the rapidly darkening sky, the town gates, closed in the face of the approaching storm, suddenly being thrown open as guards saw them and their predicament. So dark had the skies now become they could scarcely see their hands in front of their faces as they were enveloped by the dark, swirling, roaring fury. Nasir grimly kept up his speed and prayed he’d judged his approach correctly and was in line with the gates, the sight of which was rapidly disappearing in the swirling, howling sandstorm, swirling about them. If not, he and all those trustingly following behind him, would smash into the unforgiving, rock-hard walls either side of them. Despite having covered their mouths, sand rapidly started to clog their throats, dangerously impeding their breathing. The storm shrieked around them with increasing ferocity, it’s sound now as if the all the djinns of hell had been let loose. The last few hundred yards were the hardest because of this, but then, out of the swirling maelstrom, which was gathering speed with every foot it travelled, he dimly saw them – and then, they were through. The sound of the gates crashing shut behind them, sheltering them from the still growing force outside, was one of the most beautiful many of them had ever heard.
Chapter Twelve
“A close call, Kerim! Did the rest of your day go well?” the general asked, raising his cold, tired eyes from the despatches he was reading as the younger man, still dust-covered from their race, entered the suite of rooms the delegation had been given at the palace. The older man had to raise his voice to carry over the howling winds striking and buffeting the hurriedly closed shutters.
“Indeed, it did, sir,” responded Kerim coolly. “I won a race in the face of the fiercest competition, on the most wonderful horses and my falcon caught most of the quarry!”
“And your own quarry?” the general asked quietly, his black eyes piercingly clear and dominating his dark, heavily moustached face.
Only by the slightest hesitation did Kerim display his anger at the older man’s choice of words. “If sir, you mean did I raise the matter of a future alliance with the Lord Nasir, my friend,” he added with only the slightest emphasis on the last two words, though not one missed by his superior. “I did. As you ordered, sir,” he ended with only the slightest of distaste seeping through.
“I hope it was in terms somewhat more enthusiastic than those you are showing now!” snapped the officer, his harsh voice cutting and his heavy shoulders bunching in anger.
“You needn’t worry, sir, I did my duty, though, to be honest, I doubt it will do us much good.”
“You pointed out the advantages of their continuing with our historic alliance, I hope?”
“I did, though to be frank I feel the phrase ‘continuing alliance’ ceased to have any meaning to Narash once we fled al Hofuf; without any warning to, or regard for, our allies left behind!” flashed Kerim.
“And you pointed out the possible dangers should they not willingly continue with that which has never been formally revoked?” continued the general, almost as though his young subordinate hadn’t spoken.
“If you mean, did I threaten them with an attack on either the town or the inland oases, by ourselves or the Rashid, you need have no fear, sir, I would have done my duty, had it been necessary. But Nasir was ahead of me and acknowledged they were aware of the risk, though to be fair they were, post-al Hofuf, more worried about the Rashid than ourselves!”
“Captain Celik,” said the older man after some seconds quietly observing the young officer. “I would warn you that I find your tone and, indeed, your words somewhat less respectful than those I would expect from a military officer on a military mission – and being uttered to his superior officer!” He then went on ominously. “Here, you are under my command. Pray don’t address me as though you are at your cousin’s court!”
Kerim had been on the verge of offering a polite apology. After all, he regarded the man well enough and had no wish to offend him, but the general’s words wiped any such idea from his mind, replacing them instead with a white-hot fury.
“That sir, is insulting! I have never, ever, used my relationship to the Sultan to help my military career, nor have I allowed it to make me forget the respect due to my superior officers.” He paused, struggling to control his temper and then went on, more calmly, though only slightly so, such was both his outrage at his superior’s comments and his discomfort in being put in the position of appearing to threaten his friends. “I give you my opinion on this matter because I know the Narashi. I’m one of the few who do, despite our much-vaunted alliance with them!” He took a calming breath before continuing. “If, if my behaviour seemed less than respectful, if you feel either my manner or words have been less than should be expected from a junior officer, I apologise but, frankly sir, I don’t feel they have been!”
The older man looked calmly back at the angry young officer. “Do I believe you guilty of mis-using your family connections?” He shook his head. “No, you never do, and it was remiss of me to say so. Unlike others of y
our blood, you are scrupulous in avoiding trading on it. But I am concerned that your heart does not seem to be in persuading our Narashi friends to join us against the British.”
Kerim nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the truth in his superior’s words.
“If truth be told, Sir, I am, mainly because I see how vulnerable they would be to an attack by the British from either Kuwait or the Gulf, should they openly re-affirm their alliance with us.”
“Do you think they will?”
Kerim shook his head, glad to be able to honestly report back without betraying his friend’s confidence. “To be frank, sir, I don’t know and, I believe, neither do they.” He went on to explain what he and Nasir had discussed.
The general nodded grimly. “One thing I do agree with you on, is that your young friend wields more influence, much more, than he realises. To have him uncertain is worrying. At least Badr, his brother, is still with us.” He sighed sadly.
“Let us hope that is enough, Kerim, because their access to the Gulf waters makes them too valuable to lose, particularly to lose them to the British. If they don’t join us we will have no option but to invade alongside our greedy friends the Rashid, no option at all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Spring 1916
Nasir and Badr entered the camp riding either side of Talal. They’d chosen camels, to keep in step with Nasir’s troop of riflemen. Their mounts weren’t, however, any of the three score beasts of the particularly sturdy and fierce strain of war camel, bred by Bedu deep in the hinterland, that had been swiftly purchased by some of the Turkish gold disbursed by their recent visitors. Nor were they carrying any of the newly gifted rifles given by their Turkish friends. Nasir had no intention of alerting their current hosts to such generosity by their enemy.
He doubted, cynically, that their current de facto hosts would be as casually generous as the Ottoman. If they were, he suspected there would be, eventually, a much heavier price to pay for their largesse; but, he reflected, benefits came in many forms other than gold or guns.
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