Swords of Arabia: Betrayal

by Anthony Litton

  From the moment it was formally opened by Badr, the majlis had been in uproar. All present knew that the choice was formidable and breathtakingly dangerous. To complicate the picture, as ever in any gathering of men where great choices were to be made, the larger issues were clouded with smaller personal, indeed, selfish, considerations. These latter, Nasir and those grouped round the young emir knew, could prove crucial. Over the decades’ long alliance, much had been shared by the two nations. Many families had close business links with Turkish interests. Some Turkish merchant families, like the once-influential Ihahis, had actually settled in the emirate. Before Suleiman the younger had fled some two or three years previously, the family had been one of the most powerful. Many of the Narashi social and business elites had sent their sons to the Ottoman capital and there they’d met powerful figures from either the Sultan’s court or even more powerful figures at the top of either Turkey’s military or its business communities. It was at the Ottoman court itself that Badr himself had spent a number of years in his early youth. There he had met, and become friendly with, Husain bin Ali, then just one of a number of hangers on from the ever-feuding Hashem clan who littered the court of the Sultan. Despite the difference in their ages, the middle-aged princeling took a liking to the young Narashi. Being by nature devious and serpentine, the older man was exceptionally well-placed to help the naïve young new arrival avoid some of the worst dangers of the decadent and vicious court. Their friendship grew and flourished, so much so, that Badr’s first wife was a close relative of the diminutive and lethal plotter.

  On Badr’s return to Narash two years later, the two had kept in friendly communication. It was a friendship that Talal, his father, had encouraged, though not without warning his son that Husain stood out – even amongst the Hashemite clan, a family known for its ruthless internal and bloody in-fighting – for his deviousness and self-centred unreliability.

  When, in 1908, Husain won out in the battle to be chosen, by the sultan, as emir of The Hejaz and Sharif of the holy city of Mecca, Badr, now with Faoud’s blessing, went to the west coast of Arabia and spent a further year with the ruler, helping him consolidate his rule. At the same time he learned even more of the dark arts of ruling. He returned with a firm pledge that the Sharif would aid him should he ever have need of that support. Over-confident, Badr hadn’t asked for any help during the struggle after Fouad’s death. He had no intention of making the same mistake twice, and had asked for – and been promised – help in the coming struggle. He knew it was a formidable commitment. Besides friendship, he was very aware that his friend, being himself beholden to the Ottoman, had a second powerful reason for wanting Narash to renew its alliance with the Turks. Knowing it was his best – perhaps last – chance to wrest the throne from his nephew, Badr had also taken other precautions. He thus opened the assembly with all the relaxed air of one who knows he holds all the aces.

  Nasir was made aware by Zahirah and Firyal’s ever active intelligence services, of many, but, as it turned out tragically, not all of his older brother’s machinations. Because of what he did know, however, he was grimly aware of the uphill struggle he faced in the assembly. One extra piece of information he did have, though, which, if used wisely, might – just might – be powerful enough to deflect Badr’s victory.

  That piece of information, more than anything else, was the reason that they had manoeuvred to get the particular date in summer that everyone was finally agreed upon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Despite the crucial importance of the majlis, it was a supreme irony that, due entirely to what happened immediately afterwards, few attending could afterwards recall the detail of what actually went on in the assembly itself.

  Many could recall their surprise at the very beginning of the meeting. They had expected, and some were prepared for, Badr to use both his position as senior regent and the platform that opening the majlis gave him, to storm through the case for an Ottoman alliance. They had seen it as inevitable that he would try and force the assembly, by the sheer force of his dominant personality and the passion of his rhetoric, to swiftly back his decision to ally with the Turk.

  They were wrong.

  For whatever reason, the wily prince instead took a relaxed, discursive approach. He started off by going back to the very beginning of the alliance. As he was a born teller of stories the audience listened intently. His rich voice and eloquent words span magic as he recalled the many battles that the Narashi and Ottoman had fought side by side; the numerous times their powerful protector had sent gold, and sometimes guns, to aid their small ally’s constant fight against those who would have what was theirs. He recalled the visits many present had made to the Ottoman court, of how they’d been overwhelmed by its power, majesty and opulence; of how well their hosts had treated them, always as nothing less than honoured guests and valued friends. Then, ominously, he pointed to the growing victories of the Turks over the British on both their own soil and in Arabia itself.

  “Cleverly done,” murmured Firyal to Zahirah, who nodded her agreement. Both women well knew that the majority of the majlis had little or no knowledge, and considerably less interest in, Europe or North Africa where the Turks were faring badly; of how, in effect, their empire was crumbling from internal forces which, in their own way, were every bit as powerful as the great war now being fought. They were, however, all keenly aware of the still dangerously potent Ottoman power in Arabia.

  Other than Badr’s powerful opening salvo, however, most present that day could only recall this prince, or that powerful merchant, speaking for or against the British or Ottoman alliance. All agreed later that few, if any, surprises arose for some hours. Salim, a long-time supporter of Talal, spoke at length and powerfully in favour of Britain. Tamir, an equally long-time supporter of Badr, spoke equally at length, but far more boringly, in favour of the Ottoman. Yet others sat and said nothing at all. Their reasons varied, but all were equally concerned to ensure that they backed the winning side – whichever that turned out to be. Thus, they would only join in the debate when it became obvious which side would win, and for many hours that was not at all clear.

  Then, Mus’id rose to speak – and the mood in the chamber sharpened. Powerful, wealthy and a senior prince, he had always kept neutral in the family feuds and disagreements. He had personal reasons for a particularly deep hatred of the al Saud, and for many years he had seen every issue that arose solely in terms of at least keeping his hated enemy out of Narash – or better still, being driven out of Arabia itself. He was also known, despite his studied neutrality, to rarely, if ever, fail to back the ultimate winner in any dispute.

  “Uncles, brothers, cousins, honoured fellow members of this majlis, I have listened well to what has been said this day. I would add only this. We know of the Ottoman’s flight from al Hofuf – without any concern for us their long-time allies,” he added with ironic emphasis, using one of Badir’s earlier phrases against him. “I say only this, the Rashid attacked Kuwait only some dozen years ago, What happened? They were driven off by a British gunboat shelling them. What happened with us, when we had to fight to retake the town from Mishari? Who helped? No one. Not even our true friends, the Ottoman,” he added, again mocking what Badr had said only minutes before. “I look beyond this war now, and look afterwards – because there will be an afterwards, there always is. And I ask myself which great power has, down its history, shown itself both willing and able to back its allies in their time of need? For make no mistake, we shall need them to fight the al Saud – for they are our true enemy, and it is them we must prepare against.” He paused, and then added simply, “I think the answer is clear and I favour an alliance with the British.”

  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 v
ictory. 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.”

  Badr, ever astute, also sensed the meeting was moving toward supporting the British alliance. Quite apart from his genuine belief in the rightness of an Ottoman treaty, he also knew that for him to suffer personally a second defeat in a few short months could well destroy his power-base. To lose any future hope of becoming emir was something he would not tolerate, so he decided to speak again – and this time with force and to the point. To underline this, he rose to his feet, the added height, as he fully intended, lending weight to his words.

  “Times in our land are dangerous. They’ve always been so, but today’s dangers are far bigger than any we have previously faced.” He paused, looked around slowly, and then went in for the kill. “It is a time when strong leadership is needed.” He paused again, glancing very casually, but very noticeably, at his nephew. Ignoring the indrawn breaths at the subtly given, but obvious, insult, he continued smoothly. “It is a double misfortune that, at this a most dangerous time, we are without Fouad, my brother. He was a strong, powerful warrior, yes, but above all he was a master of the arts of the ruler. One of these – perhaps the greatest – was to see beyond the dangers of a day, a month, a year – and to see far enough ahead to know what would best serve his people. He had always been a supporter of the Ottoman. I know,” he continued, heading off a challenge from Nasir, who had more truly known his brother’s thinking on the matter, “that he had looked at a British alliance, but am sure that, had he lived, he would, having both honour and foresight, renewed our friendship with our Ottoman allies. It is, my friends, time that we stopped drifting as so many grains of sand in the desert winds. It is time to again take our place alongside our friends. To stand side by side with them in their hour of need – as friends do. And, as friends also do, they will remember our aid and be sure to help us after the great war is ended. Mus’id, though wrong in his conclusion, is right on the single most important truth we have always faced. Our real enemy are the al Saud. One day we must fight them again – and for that we need trustworthy friends. Strong as we are, wealthy as we are, we cannot win against them if we stand alone. It is time that strong decisions are taken now to protect our future – as they were in Fouad’s day,” he added, with the slightest of sneers as he looked at his nephew.

  This sally was what made Nasir decide to respond as he did. No longer was he prepared to be tactful and pleasant to his older brother. Badr’s words had told him that a break was inevitable – and very near. So be it, he would land the first open blow – and it would be a hard one. Hard, that is, if Badr, with his own widespread intelligence network and close ties of marriage and friendship hadn’t already heard. He certainly shouldn’t have in the previous few hours. All those who wished to give messages to the leaders in the majlis had been closely questioned; none of the earlier ones were seeking access with the information that would aid Badr, so they were let through. Later, two who were, had been caught and held. Nasir now listened with extra care to every word his co-regent spoke, trying to glean the extent of his half-brother’s knowledge.

  Badr’s next words gave him his answer.

  “And even if some temporary advantage was seen in slinking away from the tents of our friends – how would it look to our other friends? How would the young emir of the Rashid view us? How would other steadfast allies of the Ottoman look upon us? Many of you know that I am honoured by the friendship of Husain ibn Ali the Sherif of Mecca itself, one of the greatest of Arabia’s princes and long a close supporter and loyal friend to the Sultan himself! How would I be able to explain our desertion to him, should we decide to grovel at the feet of the British? How could any of you explain to...”

  Nasir made a great show of looking surprised. So much so, that he caught the attention of a large percentage of the assembly, which, of course, had been his intention. Badr, sensing the loss of part of his audience looked around in irritation. On seeing his brother’s ostentatious look of astonishment, he paused, obviously puzzled.

  Nasir seized the opportunity with ruthless speed. “Brother,” he said, with deliberately extravagant puzzlement, “I thought you would have heard, with your links of friendship to the Sherif himself”

  Badr, obviously angered at having his speech interrupted, was less cautious than usual. “What do you mean?” he asked, his mind more on the points he wished to make to end, once and for all, the chance of any British alliance, than to what his young half-brother had to say.

  He should have been much more careful.

  “Only,” Nasir said coldly, his words, such was their force, lashing like a whip, “that, the Sherif has revoked his treaties with the Ottoman – and declared for the British.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The blood left Badr’s face and he seemed almost to reel, such was the shock at his younger brother’s words. Then, he rallied – his p
henomenal self-discipline coming swiftly to his aid. “You lie.” he said coldly.

  “No lie, Brother, no lie,” replied Nasir, his cool tones masking his fierce joy at confirming that Badr hadn’t heard about his wily friend’s desertion of the Turk. “Feel free to doubt my words if you will, but I would advise you – make no plans which involve reliance on the Sherif. Perhaps,” he continued, “you’d believe the words of your messenger!” With that he snapped his fingers and the great doors were thrown open and a dusty, exhausted figure stumbled in. Badr’s eyes flared with shock as he recognised one of the many spies he had at the court of the Sherif. He swung round in fury, now fully realising that he’d been played with like a mouse in the clutches of a cat.

  ***

  There was little left to say after that. Everyone in the room knew that Badr had lost too much ground. No formal vote was needed. When Nasir quietly said, “I think brother, we can but follow the Sherif’s example,” the whole room sighed with agreement. Despite Badr and his allies rallying and trying to fend off their approaching defeat, the news of Husain ibn Ali’s switch of loyalty, and Badr not being aware of it, was enough to cause the room to tilt towards the British alliance – and towards Nasir, whose ruthless and publis destruction of his brother’s case had won him many new friends. And and an equal number of enemies; such was life in Arabia.

  So, without the need for further discussion, the sense of the room was taken. Badr’s defeat was then final, though not by the overwhelming majority that Nasir knew was necessary to finally destroy his power. He knew then that a final showdown with Badr would still be necessary at some time in the future, but, for now, he was content. The decision was finally made. It was by a frighteningly narrow margin, but it was made. The meeting had been long, bitter and, all felt, dangerously divisive. Every man present knew that Badr would not lightly take his defeat. Everyone there had known perfectly well that beside the external issue of which alliance to join, internal choices were being forced, strength being tested. Badr had come out second best. The problem was that it wasn’t by the crushing margin necessary to extinguish his hopes, if not his appetite. That appetite, Nasir knew, with absolute conviction, would be inflamed, not extinguished. Badr would, knew his younger brother dispassionately, be like some powerful animal, wounded but still dangerous. He will need watching, he thought tiredly, as he rose with Talal to leave the chamber.