Then all weariness fled, yet more danger was approaching – and fast.
“Many riders have crossed the borders and are coming here!” shouted an exhausted and bleeding man, as he half collapsed at Nasir’s feet.
“Merciful Allah! How many and who are they?”
“Many, Lord, many; our scout didn’t say anything more!” replied the messenger, lowering his voice and adding bleakly. “He says he saw the Lord Salman and the merchant Ilahi amongst those leading them!”
Salman and Suleiman Ilahi! A prince of the house now allied with a man who, despite fleeing some years previously, still had strong links to some of the emirate’s most powerful merchant families. Ya Allah! A deadly mix, thought Nasir, as, flanked by Mish’al and Nawwaf, he and Talal hurried to the ramparts of the citadel and ran along them to where they overlooked the town’s gateway. He was not surprised to see Zahirah already there. As ever, she was outwardly unperturbed as she oversaw the slaves of her household hurriedly bringing up guns and other weaponry from the town’s arsenal.
She turned as she heard his hurried footsteps. “I doubt they come in friendship!” Nasir said flatly, as he reached her side, relieved to see no sign yet of the threatened force.
She nodded. “There’s little doubt they don’t, I think! Those two, riding with large numbers of men and with no advance riders to say they are friends, tells us that!” she replied, equally grimly. “We may soon know more, though!” she added. “Look!”
Nasir had seen it too, a lone horseman approaching fast, recklessly so, became clear as they saw the thick white foam sprouting from his mount’s flared nostrils, a sure sign of an animal being ridden to its limits. The tension gripped them all as they watched the rider’s headlong gallop along the dusty, hard-packed earth of the road leading to the town gates. Suddenly a shot rang out and he slumped in his saddle. Somehow though, he kept his seat and his horse raced under the hurriedly opened high gateway, which, as hurriedly, shut again behind his racing form.
Rifle fire erupted again and they all instinctively looked out across the walls. It was only when they heard a second shot that they realised both had come from behind them – from inside the town itself and from two directions! The three men wheeled round, instinctively moving in front of Zahirah and Talal, as their eyes scanned the walls and the cluster of low buildings nearby. The roof of any one of them could be providing cover for the marksman, or men, they thought, as more shots rang out, shattering the hot, humid air, and blowing chunks out of the wall near them.
“Over there!” Nasir shouted, pointing to the tower of a nearby minaret, as he saw sunlight flash on a rifle barrel which was hurriedly withdrawn as its owner saw that he’d been spotted. It did him little good, however, as Daoud, who’d already shot the first of the marksmen, sheltering on a nearby roof, ordered two of his men up into the building with orders to capture the man alive, if at all possible.
This they succeeded in doing, though only just. The man thrown at Nasir’s feet was dying. He’d fought to avoid capture and the resulting bullet and knife wounds were providing easy pathways for the blood to flow from his body. The man knew he was dying and he had only one thought left. He looked at Zahirah as he spoke. “I know little, but will tell it, if my family are not harmed and are provided for after my death,” he whispered. At her nod, he said, thickly and slowly, through the blood rapidly filling his throat and lungs, “I was paid by a manservant of the Lord Badr to shoot either yourself, Lady, or the Lord Nasir or the young emir, should you by chance escape the fighting in the great chamber. Should that not be possible, I was to shoot the Lady Firyal and Mish’al, Nawwaf, or Daoud – any close to yourselves and with power.” He had told all he knew, but even had he not, that was all he was able to tell; his time had run out and his head slumped forward tiredly onto his blood-covered chest. He was, strangely, at peace. Ruthless though he knew Zahirah to be, he also knew that her word, once given, was always kept; his family would be safe. Though life was hard, he hadn’t wanted to die, but in doing so he had secured safety from want for his family, and, after all, that was all a man could ask for in this world.
“Badr! So we were right. He was planning to move against us!”
“Yes, though we knew he would – it was only ever the timing of such a move that we didn’t know,” agreed Zahirah, as she calmly watched the man die. Her word was given and she would abide by it. It didn’t mean, however, that she had to feel any pity for the broken man dying at her feet.
“Lord Nasir! Lady Zahirah!” Their sombre thoughts were broken by Daoud’s voice calling them urgently, from the foot of the stairs leading to the tower.
“The rider!” exclaimed Nasir, hurrying down the narrow steps, stepping carefully on their uneven and sand-strewn surface. The shock of the sniper-fire had wiped the speeding rider’s arrival from their minds. He hurried over to where the man was laid out in the comparative coolness of a lean-to, hard by the thick town walls.
“Is he still alive?” he asked kneeling down beside the battered and bloody man.
“Yes, Lord and will, I believe, survive,” murmured the burly chief of guards. “He’s not yet spoken – said it could be only with you, yourself, or the Lady Zahirah,” he added. With a nod and a brief smile of thanks to his guards’ commander, Nasir leant over the stricken man and gently shook his shoulder, just as Zahirah reached his side. Her eyes widened in shock as she recognised the wounded rider as Obeid, one of her longest serving and most trusted men. The semi-conscious man groaned, at even Nasir’s light touch, and his eyelids flickered open in protest. On recognising Nasir, he struggled up onto his elbows, urgency written all over his face. “Lord Nasir, I am a courier for the Lady...” He broke off as he saw her stooping down behind Nasir. “Lady! I have done as you bid – and it’s worse, very much worse, than you feared.”
Nasir looked up, startled. He knew his sister-in-law well enough to know that she told most people very little of her motives and fears. To have shared even a small part with the man now lying injured at their feet showed how exceptional he must be.
“Tell us,” she replied, with that icy calm she always possessed when great danger threatened.
“The Rashid are riding with the Lord Salman and the merchant Ihahi – and they will be here within two hours!” he gasped, greedily taking more of the water Doaud was letting trickle through his parched lips.
“So – it is beginning; the Rashid have turned against us!” she said, exchanging a grim look with Nasir.
He nodded, “Yes, and even more swiftly than we thought. If they bring all their strength, we cannot hold out beyond a day or two at most.”
“Yes, and if they have boats, the harbour will be under threat also.”
“Lady, Lord, there’s more ill-news!” said the messenger urgently, trying to rise up again.
Alarmed they turned back to him. “The Rashid don’t come alone – they have Ottoman soldiers with them!”
Ya Allah! Why are they here – and so quickly? Nasir wondered, stunned, before his mind quickly returned to military considerations. If they’ve brought big guns our walls will fall in minutes, he thought, stunned by the speed at which the catastrophe was upon them. They were alone; there’d been no time to inform the British of their change of allegiance. Even if they had, it was unlikely that their new imperial ally could have arrived in time to help. So their only hope of succour was gone; they were alone.
Chapter Twenty One
“Look! Over there! See the riders!” shouted a guard further down the wall, rather unnecessarily, as the large dust-storm that the force’s rapid approach wreathed them in was now clearly visible to the worried watchers on the town’s walls.
“Ya Allah! Obeid wasn’t exaggerating!” exclaimed Zahirah, turning as Nasir came and stood alongside her, worry etched deeply into his face also as he observed the swift approach of men who, until very recently, had been their closest of friends and allies. That the Rashid could field so many men he well knew but he also saw that Obeid hadn’
t exaggerated the number of Ottoman troops riding with them. Why? The Rashid forces would outnumber any the Narashi could field against them, even with their own allies. The speed of the attack had precluded any of the latter being contacted anyway, so they were on their own – and heavily out-numbered.
“It was ibn Saud we feared in this uncertain time between alliances. We should have remembered the appetites of our Rashidi cousins,” Nasir remarked bitterly.
Zahirah nodded, “Yes, the opportunity to strike and seize a port of the Gulf waters is a rich prize. I suspect that it was our being in alliance with them, and thus their having easy access to the waters, that was the only thing stopping them attempting something like this previously.”
Nasir nodded sombrely. “Yes and having lost almost all the al Hasa with their flight from al Hofuf, and then fleeing from Basra a year and a half ago, this is now the Ottoman’s only access to its waters. Which makes us doubly valuable,” he remarked quietly.
“Yes, and doubly vulnerable, much as a tethered bird is to a starving dog,” she agreed.
As well as ensuring that the ramparts were manned, they had placed an almost equal number of loyalist guards stationed facing into the town, so uncertain were loyalties after the too recent blood-letting. Then all they could do was watch quietly as the force, several hundred strong and banners flying, approached the walls and the leading riders became clearly visible. Then confirming their hostile intent, they swept round in a semi-circle, entirely surrounding the town on its landward side. They stayed just out of rifle-shot and stopped, seeming to be waiting for something before they advanced further towards the walls. From where Nasir and the others stood on the tower of the great gateway, they could also see to their left across the harbour; and they saw that there were boats, many boats, approaching its mouth. As yet, none of the vessels made any attempt to enter and stayed lying quietly with their oars banked, just outside the range of the guns of either of the small forts crouched high on their rocky headlands each side of the harbour’s entrance.
The inaction of the enemy’s land forces surprised the onlookers, grateful though they were for any delay in the expected onslaught. Why were they here, and so quickly? Two questions, with as yet no answer, thought Nasir, gazing stonily down at the approaching riders.
“Badr!” The speed of the approaching disaster had stunned them all, but now, suddenly, Zahirah’s mind was working with its usual icy clarity.
Nasir, taken by surprise, looked at her in astonishment, then his own mind made the same connection. He remembered his brother’s uncharacteristically leisurely opening speech at the majlis; his angry exchange with two of the ring-leaders of the attack in the great chamber. It wasn’t an anger aimed at their treachery but their timing! They’d launched their attack too soon. His brother had been waiting for the arrival of the force now encircling the town.
“Yes, that’s why they’re waiting now – they’re expecting Badr to greet them!” exclaimed Zahirah.
“And as he can’t, they’ll realise he’s been defeated – and then, they’ll attack and I doubt we can do more that sell our lives dearly,” replied Nasir, bluntly. “We must get Talal and his brothers away if they do seem about to overwhelm us,” he added quietly.
Zahirah nodded. She had no illusions as to what her sons’ fate would be if the forces got into the town. There’d be one too many emirs from that moment on, and Talal’s life would be snuffed out to remedy that situation. Nor would his brother, Faoud’s second son, or his half-brother, her son by Mohammed, survive more than minutes more. She had emergency plans in place for the three of them, should such a threat as this that now threatened them, arise; as, indeed, she had for many other possible scenarios. She would wait, but not for long, before she implemented the boys’ escape. She knew when she did she would have a fight on her hands to get Talal to leave without her, his sisters or his grandmother, but leave he would. If things got to the stage that flight was necessary he had to if he were to survive – and one day take whatever vengeance was necessary.
She said nothing of this as they waited grimly. They knew the invaders wouldn’t remain quiet for long. Once it was clear that Badr wasn’t going to appear, they would realise he had been defeated. Then there’d be no reason to delay any attack. The defenders realised that they couldn’t even buy time by sending out an emissary purporting to be from Badr, so all they could do was wait until the attacker’s patience ran out.
As he gazed out at the army surrounding them, Nasir recalled his friend Kerim’s final words just before the Turkish embassy left Narash. “Be very sure, my friend, that if you do decide to join with Britain, our forces will attack you. No, that isn’t a threat. Nor is it information. If I did know of any such plan I couldn’t tell you. I just know how our imperial mind works! So, be careful, my friend – and be prepared.”
So Kerim, you were right, my friend, he thought, but despite your warning we weren’t prepared, not prepared at all.
As though reading his thoughts, a small group of five or six horsemen broke away from the main body and, with a flag of truce, rode forward. Nasir recognised the man at their head – one of the more powerful of the al Rashid family, but not the young emir himself. That is curious, he mused briefly. He was less surprised that the two renegades stayed back with the main force, no doubt realising, he thought, that no flag of truce would entirely guarantee their safety. He stepped forward to show himself clearly on the ramparts, well aware of the risk of doing so; after all, he thought sardonically, they’d lose several lives to my one. None of this showed in his face, however, as he looked down on the riders now reined in to a stop immediately below him. Making sure there were no sight-lines, he brought Talal to his side. As ever, he was careful to ensure the boy was as involved and present on as many occasions as possible. He agreed entirely with his mother and grandmother that to keep him a sheltered boy until the very day he assumed the powers of his position would bode ill for both him and for Narash.
“Greetings, Lord Talal, Lord Nasir,” said the leading horseman courteously.
Returning the greeting, Nasir went on, with a touch of sardonic humour. “Pleased as we are to welcome our friends from the Rashid, we are surprised that there are... So many of you. As indeed, we are at the amount of weapons you – our friends – are carrying!”
“Really? We are surprised our invitation wasn’t made known to you – for we assure you we were invited.” replied the elderly sheik, smiling coldly.
“My brother Badr invited you, I believe,” Nasir replied, now equally coldly.
“Indeed, he did,” replied the Rashid elder after a short pause. “I assume, by his absence that he is… unable... to greet us personally?”
“You assume correctly,” Nasir responded flatly. “This side of hell, at least,” he added calmly.
The party below gasped as the meaning of his words became clear. Their leader himself, however, gave nothing away. “I see. And you, yourself, could not be persuaded to open your gates to us – as a ‘friend’?” he asked, gesturing to the force behind him, though in a voice which clearly said he knew the answer.
Nasir shook his head. “Our emir would allow no one in whose friendship there in doubt,” he replied bluntly.
Obviously impatient at the slowness of the conversation, the heavily built Turkish officer at the elderly sheik’s side suddenly spoke up.
“I bring you greetings from Kerim Bey,” he said forcing his horse forward until he was right under the walls, forcing Nasir to lean over to still see the man, making himself, he knew, an even easier target. He gave little thought to that, however, as the import of what the Turkish officer said hit him. Kerim Bey. He’d known his friend was well-born, but to bear the title Bey meant his status was even higher than he’d realised. The title was used either for high officials, or for some of the Ottoman nobility. Young as his friend was, Nasir assumed it must be the latter. It certainly explained the young soldier’s self-assurance and the feeling he exuded of bei
ng entirely at ease wherever he was.
None of this showed on his face as he answered. “Kerim Bey will always be my friend – but friendship must take its place behind other considerations.” He bent down slightly as Talal whispered something in his ear. Ha! The boy certainly has much of his father in him, he thought, smiling to himself as he straightened up. “The Lord Talal reminds me of my manners. He bids me ask yourself and your advance party – just yourself and your advance party – to enter and take refreshment, as our friends,” he added with no trace of the amusement he felt at the invitation in his voice.
The elderly Rashid saw the joke and half-saluted the watchers on the walls. The Turkish officer, however, did not. “We cannot accept the ‘hospitality’ of those we suspect of betraying their allegiance!” he spat.
“Allegiance? We in Narash have no allegiance to anyone! We are a free and sovereign people!” Nasir spat back in his turn, genuinely outraged by the Turk’s arrogance.
“We would be foolish, I think to enter your gates, and then find you are no longer our friend,” the Turk replied haughtily.
“Whatever we are now, our hospitality would be untainted by anything but genuine welcome,” Nasir replied icily.
The Turkish officer started to reply hotly, but was silenced by the Rashidi sheik, raising a hand. “We know that, Lord Nasir, but it seems to me we are no longer on the same side. Am I correct?”
Nasir nodded, “That is correct,” he replied.
The sheik nodded. “Then our time would be better spent in other pastimes,” he replied gravely. “Yes, to see our friendship go after so many years is sad, indeed. Although,” he added with a sweeping glance at the town’s walls, “there are benefits to be had from the new situation,” his tone of voice making clear his avaricious intent.
Nasir laughed in genuine amusement. “My ‘friend’ will understand if we do our utmost to stop those ‘benefits’ from too easily falling into his hands!”
Swords of Arabia: Betrayal Page 13
